


We, ourselves and us

by Strudelmugel



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Australia, Alternate Universe - Human, Dad W. D. Gaster, Multi, My First Work in This Fandom, Non evil Chara, Not sure what to put, Parent-Child Relationship, Possession, Toriel 'I literally can't stop myself adopting children' Dreemurr, What Have I Done, a saga of blooky constantly having to put up with their cousins' shit, but i dont want to give away spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: due to this fic being reposted without my permission, I will no longer be updating this. To the person that reposted, I hope you're happy, asshole.</p><p> </p><p>Frisk has settled down well with their new mother, friends and life, going to school like a normal seven-year-old. However, for all of Toriel's smiles and kindness, they know she's haunted by a dark past they can only piece together from hints and photographs. A curious exploration of their home's attic certainly gives them all the answers they need, along with a far bigger problem that could turn out to be their greatest adventure: tracking down the infamous Dr Gaster, who disappeared several years ago without a trace.<br/>And if there was one thing they and their friends loved, it was a good adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> What’s this? A fic that isn’t Hetalia? How scandalous! Look, I’m having trouble getting my Hetalia muse on so all my fics are on ice until I get motivation back. Until then, I’m going to try a fic for the trash that’s lead to my lack of fic writing: Undertale. This is my first time writing for a new fandom since… 2012? 2011? Meaning a lot of people probably haven’t read my stuff before and this is not making any sense. Anyway, anyone who’s read my stuff before, I’m out of my comfort zone, which is good but that coupled with a lack of writing these past months means I’m rather rusty. Bear with me on this. It might take a while to get good.  
> Now, this is a human au, and with nearly all the characters, I’m using my personal humantale [eartale] designs, with the exception of Mettaton and Napstablook, whose designs were created by peteradnan on tumblr. It’s also because of them that this story’s set in Australia.  
> Okay, so this fic is supposed to be a generally fun adventure story with some domestic fluff thrown in. However, it also gets pretty dark at times, so be warned. I’ll be putting up specific warnings when need be. I don’t want the general atmosphere to be too miserable and pessimistic though, because it wouldn’t feel like Undertale then. The true ending, at least.  
> Anyway, enjoy this! The plot is still a work in progress- when is it ever not with me?- but I’ll try my best!

Toriel had to count herself lucky that she was being allowed to adopt again. After what happened last time, she wouldn’t have been surprised at a lifelong ban.

Not that she was to blame for-

The care home still seemed the same, from what she could remember. The same faded, blue carpet and, wait, were the walls always cream? They had been paler last time, she could’ve sworn. Maybe she _was_ turning into a doddery, forgetful old lady already, Toriel mused before stifling a giggle. Oh, she was already an old lady in a young lady’s body! Though, not as young as she’d like anymore, she noted with a grimace, playing with a strand of greying white hair, forced into two crude, messy plaits barely brushing against her shoulders. She would normally blame it on the events of the past decade, and how she’d not bothered with her appearance in a long time, but, well, she would be 35 this year, and that was pretty old, according to some of her students.

After… well it was still painful to think about, so she tried to cover the past with what appeared to be a tentative, hopeful future. She was to become a mother again; if all went to plan, a few months from now the pitter patter of tiny feet would soon be filling her chilly, desolate home again.

Toriel had already seen a photo of this child, Frisk Guerrero Durante, in their file, along with whatever basic information the staff and counsellors could find, and a disturbing list of possible reasons as to why they couldn’t talk. When she’d first read through the file, she assumed Mr Gerson, the child’s social worker and an old acquaintance, had been playing a cruel joke on her, matching her with a child so similar to…

But Gerson wasn’t the type to pull a stunt like that, so she’d simply asked if the decision was wise. He’d laughed and scratched his scraggly beard, explaining that, due to her past experience caring for traumatised children, mild temperament, and knowledge of Auslan, had made her a good candidate to look after this particular child.

Traumatised? Just what had she gotten herself into? Again. 

The paintings on the wall had changed, too, naturally. A whole decade of children coming and going, pinning their watercolours and scribbly drawings on the notice boards provided, along with certificates and schedules. A stand heaving with brightly-coloured children’s coats and a shelf of little shoes were her only company in the bright hall, sunlight warming her face as she wondered just what to say to Frisk. Oh it had been so long since she’d spoken to a child so young, what could one even say to a four year old? She had to look warm, friendly, like someone this little one would want as a mother. What if they were scared of her though? What if they didn’t like her? What if they ran away after one tiny glance?

Oh God Toriel hoped this would work out. Watching a child grow up, becoming someone good! Who knew what she would get to see them do with their life? She had a lot of love to give, and adoption had always stood out as a way to give it, even when she herself was a kid. If she had her way, and more money and a bigger house, she’d adopt the entire care home! Yes, a tiny army of adorable children to care for and love; what could be better? Nothing, as far as Toriel was concerned.

Then again, maybe that would be a little stressful, especially considering she was a teacher and vice-chancellor on top of being a hopeful parent. One child would have to do for now or she might just go mad.

“Excuse me, madam?” a tiny voice carried her from her thoughts, and Toriel looked down to find a young boy, smiling politely, optimistically. He wasn’t Frisk, she could tell that easily- too old, too blond.

“Oh, hello little one,” she told him, keeping her voice as soft as possible.

“Are you choosing a kid today?” he asked. He tried to discretely fix his hair as he beamed up at her, and Toriel couldn’t help chuckling. Utterly adorable! Utterly heartbreaking too, she realised as she opened her mouth to reply.

“I am afraid not dear.” The boy’s face fell. “I was invited to visit little Frisk. I plan to take care of them eventually, if they are willing.”

“Oh? Frisk,” the child tapped his chin, “I know them! They’re really nice, and share their crayons! Bit weird though.”

Well wasn’t that just a strange coincidence. Someone else she knew once had been described as a bit weird before she’d met them. ‘Really nice’ was a new one though, certainly one-up from aggressive, anti-social, rude.

“I see,” she murmured, “well, thank you for telling me, young one. I hope… I hope one day you find the parents you deserve. And hopefully they will know how to make pie.”

“Well that’s kind of you, lady! I prefer cake though.”

Toriel laughed.

“Of course, cake then!”

Playful shrieks sounded in the distance, and the kid turned his head with a grin. “Oh, that’s my mates; we’re playing rugby! See ya lady!” And with that, he dashed off, leaving a still-giggling Toriel.

“Ahem, Ms Dreemurr?”

Toriel turned her head, face dusted with a blush at being caught, coming face to face with Mr Gerson, in his familiar tweed suit and bright, crooked smile. 

“Oh, good morning,” she began. She really should get round to changing her surname sometime, but as much as she hated _that man_ and everything to do with him, the name, it had a beautiful ring to it. More so than her maiden one, at least. She used to revel in muttering that man’s delightful name, long and slow in a way she knew would make him blush and babble. Not any more though. She didn’t want anything to do with him now. 

“We can begin now,” Gerson continued, and she shook herself as she crashed back into, a thankfully more pleasant, reality. Really now. Why think of the past at a time like this? “Frisk will be along in a minute; I have to admit, it took some convincing to get them to even give meeting you a shot. Don’t be too upset if they, well, run away or aren't very responsive. I had to really ham you up as this incredible, perfect motherly candidate, from last week even.”

“Oh,” one of Toriel’s paw-like hands made its way to her pearls, just over her heart. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea then. “Would it be possible to reconsider my suitability then? I do not want to cause this child any distress.”

“Oh come on, I almost had them excited to meet you! And you really are the best potential match, really something this kid needs. I think you can help them.”

“I fear you are putting too much faith in me,” Toriel commented as she stood up, “but I will go along with this. I trust you, Gerson. If you say this is a good idea, then who am I to doubt you?”

Well, she did doubt him, very much so. But he thought this was for the best, and the man was smart, smarter than herself and most people she knew. At his age, that should be expected to some degree. And she really wanted a child…

“Well then,” Gerson clapped his hands together, “shall we begin?” He opened a bright blue door opposite the row of chairs Toriel had risen from.

“Indeed.”

“Well, you go on inside and get settled. I’ll fetch the kid.”

And so Toriel found herself looking around an equally bright and friendly office from a considerably more comfy padded chair, the room covered in shelves of files and books on psychology and child development. On the huge wooden desk were more papers that she wasn’t nosey enough to read, and a plate containing a single apple carved into the shape of a crab; funnily enough a similar piece of culinary artwork had been present every other time she’d sat in this office.

“Ah, here we are.” Toriel turned around to find Gerson pushing open the door gently, almost as gentle as his grip on the tiny hand of the toddler following behind him, clinging to his leg with their other arm and staring up at Toriel with great unease.

In person, they were even more  like someone else Toriel loved, when she’d first met them. That person had glared though, equally fearful of this tall, dumpy woman before them. In fact, although their jumpers and hair were similar, there was nothing in their faces that shared any resemblance. This child certainly seemed warmer, if more withdrawn, quaking in their wee dungarees and boots.

“Hello, little one,” she tried.

Frisk’s eyes widened and they buried their face in Gerson’s leg.

“You know,” he commented, “it took a while for them to warm up even to me. But now I’m the only person they feel safe around.” He knelt down and ruffled Frisk’s hair gently, “hey, come on; what did we discuss just now? There’s no need to be scared. Ms Dreemurr is nice! She’s gonna help you.”

“Oh please,” Toriel piped up, “no need to be so formal. Toriel is fine, little one.” Well, there was one thing she would prefer to be referred to as, but it was far too soon for that.

After a few moments apparent deliberation, Frisk peeked their head out from behind their social worker’s leg, expression blank. But, despite that, they gave the tiniest of waves. 

“Hello to you too,” Toriel got up as slowly as possible and moved to sit in front of them. The three of them were now close to the ground, and in the doorway, but things were going better than Toriel could’ve hoped, so she for one wasn’t going to complain.

“So, you are Frisk then?” she tried, “how lovely to meet you. You must tell me all about yourself.”

Frisk finally pulled themselves away from Gerson, but were too nervous to move their hands.

“Hmm,” Toriel scratched her chin. “Do you like to play?”

Frisk stuck their thumb in their mouth, losing their balance and falling into a sitting position. They shook their head.

“Oh what about puzzles?” Gerson suggested, “you like those.”

Frisk shifted their glance from Toriel to him and back again, bringing their free hand to the side of their head, forming a claw and wiggling their fingers.

When Toriel had mentioned her knowledge of Auslan to Gerson, what she’d failed to admit was that her ‘knowledge’ consisted of an evening course she’d taken as a teenager, oh so long ago and mostly forgotten. What? People lied and exaggerated on their CVs, how was this any different?

She glanced at Gerson, who gave a knowing sigh. “They like puzzles, or they’re confused.”

“Oh, any particular kind of puzzle?”

More gesturing she couldn’t understand.

“Jigsaw puzzles,” Gerson elaborated, and Toriel made a mental note to keep some stocked, in case this did progress to home visits, and maybe even the child moving in eventually…

Oh, she was getting ahead of herself again. Silly silly...

“How lovely,” she cooed, “how smart you are!”

Frisk’s lips twitched upwards at that; a good sign!

“Erm, what foods do you like?” she tried. The child didn’t give a response, besides continuing to suck their thumb. Well, it seemed she was all out of conversation topics. What else was there to a tiny child's life? She had to say something though, anything really, to keep conversation flowing.

“Look, little one, I don’t know how much of this you will understand, but if you let me take you in, I will provide you with so much love and care. I mean it. I have no one, and I suspect you did not either. I will read you stories, I will bake birthday cakes from scratch for you, I will support you in all your dreams and ambitions, because that is what you deserve. We can have a future together, leave the past where it belongs and stand tall as mother and child.” She blinked back the ghostly beginnings of tears. "I mean it. I will not let anything bad happen to you again."

Toriel truly didn’t know where that outburst had come from, or if Frisk understood any of her, quite frankly, embarrassing ramble, but she had meant it.

“Nicely said,” Gerson commented.

The only acknowledgement Frisk could give was another petite smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit it took me a while to warm up to the concept of human aus, mostly because these characters’ names… they’re rather absurd for regular people names huh? Yet here I am using them, because ‘human names’ on top of changed appearances, I felt was taking too much away from the original characters, personally, and I want this story to have a similar atmosphere to the game. The thought did lead to one idea I had to amuse myself: of the human au characters being the children of really pretentious celebrities who liked to give their kids daft names. Or spies with codenames. That’s interesting too. None of these theories made it into this story, I must stress.  
> On the plus, it means I don’t have to type some longage human names to nation names list at the start of every Goddamn chapter, or spend ages finding good ones. Admittedly, I took an embarrassingly long time to come up with a surname for Frisk that would only be mentioned once, but I like being annoyingly deep and meaningful about names. McFrisky will always be my canon surname for them though, I just needed something more serious for this.  
> Still, if you want to see mine or peteradnan’s designs, my tumblr is kuzeykirkland just message me or check out their elbowtale tag [seriously their art is hella]. One of my New Year’s resolutions is to be more friendly and hospitable, so catch me while you can!  
> Also, yes there is past-Asgoriel, of course there is or Asriel wouldn't exist! And he plays an important part in the fic. I feel like I should just reassure everyone there will be no Asgore-bashing [besides some negative thoughts from Toriel] and the guy will be portrayed fairly and to the best of my abilities. I want to try and give him a happy ending too, or my big burly heart's gonna break.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a plot now! I mean, I did before, in a way, but now I have a proper, fleshed-out plan I can work from so can continue this story with a clear idea of what I’m doing and not panic. Because, see, I had ideas and things I wanted for this, and thankfully I’ve been able to include them. Oh boy, I can tell you it’s gonna be epic! Well, at least I hope it is…  
> Also, can I say thanks to everyone who’s taken an interest in this story, I’m surprised so many people have, in all honesty. I’m blown away! So thank you from the bottom of my heart.  
> Anyway, without further rambling, let’s get on with the show!

Three years now and it was safe to say Frisk Dreemurr had settled in well to their new home and life with Toriel. For the most part, they were still silent and a little too passive, but things were better than they’d ever been. They were doing reasonably well at school and had a number of close friends, friendly as possible but still not quite fitting in, the other kids finding aspects of them far too odd and giving them a wide berth. They didn’t care. Why would they? They had friends and a mother who cared for them very much.

They wanted Toriel to be proud of them so much, and for the most part, they were sure she was.

But there was always a nagging feeling in the back of their mind. A little pest or bug that wouldn’t go away, telling them their new mother would be disappointed in them if they slipped up, didn’t do well at school, made even the tiniest of mistakes. They had to be the perfect child, seen not heard and out of the way.

Luckily, they didn’t need a reason to be a good person anyway, and that was all Toriel really asked for anyway. Well, that and be asleep by eight to wake up nice and early for school.

“Hey, yo, are you even listening?”

They glanced over to find their friend Kid pouting, matching uniform rather dishevelled from running about in the hot summer sun all playtime, trying to catch Frisk in a game of tag. They did feel bad at the state their friend was in by the end of it, but what could they say? They were a little dodging imp and couldn't lose!

 _I am_ , they replied.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

_You were talking about comics._

“Hmph, lucky guess,” but they were smiling again, “as I was saying, the new issue of Beano is out tomorrow and I can’t wait!”

Frisk giggled. Kid loved their comics, especially superhero ones, and superhero tv shows, and every time a new superhero film was announced, they would practically wet themselves with excitement. In fact, Beano was probably the only comic in their extensive collection that wasn’t about saving the world. Frisk wasn’t a fan of the whole thing, but they would come along to the cinema with Kid and their mum anyway, because they weren’t the worst films and they liked having a nice day out with a friend!

_Will you bring it to school again?_

“Course!” Kid grinned mischievously.

_Well try not to get it confiscated. Again._

“I won’t dude!” Kid gave yet another pout, “I learnt my lesson!”

_Don’t read in class? Again._

“Don’t read in class. Again.”

Frisk grinned.  _Naughty, naughty! And don’t yell or cheer when your favourite character saves the day. Again._

Kid laughed, though their cheeks were flushed. “Yeah, that was kinda silly of me. I dun goofed.”

 _I thought it was sweet_. Frisk meant it. They loved it when Kid’s face lit up as the rambled about whatever they loved, whoever they looked up to. It was… nice. Maybe it was because they thought Frisk was cool too, and thought people Frisk cared for were too.

Because damn Kid had a tendency to hero worship.

They wanted to be a hero too, Frisk knew. They wanted to have powers and save the day and have others look up to them. Frisk looked up to them, in a way. Not only because they were slightly taller, but because they had guts!

It was an interesting balance, their friendship.

“I’m glad I have an awesome friend like you,” Kid mumbled, and Frisk nodded.

_Same here._

 

...

  


“Sans,” Papyrus whined, drawing out his brother’s name as he glanced down at the guy. Sans, for the most part, did not seem bothered at all by the conversation.

Not that that ever stopped Papyrus from lecturing his brother on anything from his morals to his hygiene if he felt a need too, and he certainly did here.

Still, it was a lovely day outside, the sun beginning to dip as a cool breeze seeped in through his jumper, pleasantly comforting. Sans seemed happy, so Papyrus decided he was happy too. Of course! How could someone as handsome as him not be happy, he noted as he ran a hand through his curly hair. He was definitely a Happy Pappy! He had a nice pile of food technology homework to get through when he got home, his teacher had complimented his pastry filling today, and he and Undyne got to use the gym at lunch! Any week now and he’d have beautiful biceps, like Undyne’s but cooler!

“I am not going to ruin my perfect record in order to get you that bit closer to my teacher,” he added, “especially when she has called me a model student! Ugh, why can’t you put more effort into cleaning your room or staying employed for more than a month, rather than… this? Honestly, you’re a worry sometimes.”

“Right, sure thing bro,” Sans shrugged, “sorry.”

“It’s okay Sans! I understand how much you are utterly smitten with Ms Dreemurr-”

“I am no-”

“And that once a term or so isn’t nearly enough to be seeing her and you would love to woo her with your awful jokes that she likes for some reason, but this is something I cannot help you with. At least not in that way.” He rubbed his chin, a devilish grin on his face. “However, if you just let me put a good word in with her I am sure I can paint you as the most desirable-”

“No!”

Papyrus cackled. “Oh come on, my dear brother! What are you so afraid of?”

“Rejection, humiliation, an inability to show my face on your campus again, fire, death…”

“Success? That is a possibility too.”

“I’m no good at dating,” Sans admitted, almost afraid to say the word in a conversation involving Toriel Dreemurr, “if we ever… I’m so bad with effort she’d lose interest! Then I’d be _sans_ a happy time, y’know?”

Papyrus nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. Dating is a long, complicated process, especially for someone as lazy as you.”

Sans shrugged, “guilty as charge- Err, where the hell did you learn anything about dating? Didn’t know you were _up-to-date_ on the whole thing, hehe.”

“Hah. If you must know, I have read… books,” Papyrus buried his face and blush in his scarf.

“About dating? These better be age appropriate!” Sans raised an eyebrow; well wasn’t this just the perfect opportunity for revenge. “Why? Got anyone in mind?”

“No!”

“Not Undyne?”

“Of course not! You know our friendship would never turn into… that! We are both happily in the friendzone!”

“Right, silly me. How could I forget. And how could I forget that TV chef you’re always watching too, and trying to copy.” The shriek Papyrus made filled Sans with determination, and smugness. “What was his name again? I can’t remember. You’ve probably read his Wikipedia backwards by now.”

“I am a cookery student,” Papyrus muttered, “I watch Mettaton’s show to help me study.”

“Study his face,” Sans corrected, “which you wanna smooch if you ever _Metta_ him.”

“Sans don’t say that!”

“But really, I’m no chef but I’m sure copying the guy’s fancy poses aren’t gonna help you _pasta_ your class.”

“Sans! It helps Ms Dreemurr notice me and my culinary masterpieces.”

“You… pose at college, Pap?” Sans had to force back a groan. Countless times he’d come home from work to find Papyrus sweeping up broken glass in their kitchen after sticking his leg out the wrong way. It wasn’t his brother’s fault that he had long, awkward footballer legs that always seemed to get in the way; Papyrus was just that tall and skinny. He was just having fun, and so desperately wanted to be famous, revered, loved. Sans loved his brother, and their friends did too, but Papyrus was always wondering what it would be like to have fans- besides Sans and Undyne- and be adored by millions. Plus, the idea of being a friend and cohost to Mettaton would be a dream come true.

Sans knew that level of fame would bring its fair share of hate, particularly online, that he wouldn’t be able to successfully hide. Sure, he could try, and if it came to that, would, but something would always sneak through. But really, Papyrus was 18 now, definitely an adult even if he was rather innocent for his age, and Sans couldn’t shield him from the world forever. Plus, thankfully, Papyrus had proven time and time again that he’d taken ‘sticks and stones’ to heart and insults glanced off him like piss off a newly waxed car. He could always twist hurtful words in his mind into something positive, which Sans was glad for. It gave him less to worry about, but didn’t stop him from teaching his brother’s numerous childhood bullies a little lesson, usually involving knocking their teeth down their throat. They didn’t bother his little brother again, but someone else would usually start up and the cycle would repeat again.

Still, Papyrus was in university now, the teachers liked him, the students were mature enough to not resort to petty bullying, and his best friend Undyne kept him out of trouble, and occasionally dragged him into some. But Sans liked Undyne, and was grateful to her for providing Papyrus with a loyal, caring friend, something he’d needed for a while.

They’d known each other since they were children, when their dad stopped in this neighbourhood for a while and Papyrus and Undyne could play together. A few weeks of make-believe and laughs, then their family would have to move on again, wherever their dad was needed in the various labs he worked for. Travelling from place to place was their life, and though Sans missed having close friends and was glad Papyrus had someone, he missed their old lifestyle.

Undyne was a few years older than Papyrus was, taking the same class as him after dropping out of her personal training course. Or getting kicked out. He couldn’t quite remember.

A loud squeal dragged him from his thoughts, and he looked ahead to find Papyrus darting towards two small children.

“Frisk!” he cried, “Kid! What a pleasant surprise!”

Kid laughed. “We take the same route home every day!” Frisk, meanwhile, was running too, towards their friend and jumping into his arms when he was close enough, they threw their arms around his neck and placed a tiny kiss on his cheek.

“Aww, it’s nice to see you too, Frisk!”

“Hey kid,” Sans began as he finally caught up with them, “and Kid, hehe.”

“Yo, Sansy, how are ya?” Kid glanced over at the other two, and at Papyrus spinning Frisk around over his head. Neither could stop laughing.

“Haha! I have captured you! There is no escape! Prepare for torture by hugs and kisses!”

They nuzzled faces, still laughing, before Papyrus finally put them back on the floor.

“I’m great, thanks,” Sans ruffled Kid’s hair, “how’s things with you?”

“Alright, I got some homework and there’s this comic I like-” and they were off, recounting the day’s events and everything they’d told Frisk to Sans, who tried his best to keep up for about ten seconds before everything started going over his head. Then again, being so close to the ground, most things went over his head.

“How are my favourite tiny people today?” asked Papyrus, picking up both Kid and Frisk and carrying them under his arms. Even Sans had to pull a genuine smile at the three of them squealing with laughter.

The brothers had first met Frisk at a chess-playing competition, Papyrus knocked out in the first round for confusing chess rules with draughts rules. Frisk, to their credit, had made it to the quarterfinals before being beaten at the last minute. The pair happened to be sulking in the same corner of the hall and struck up a conversation, bonding instantly over a shared love of puzzles and board games, and as they were talking, their guardians also met for the first time. Sans certainly remembered that.

 _Fine_ , Frisk replied, holding their hands high so the other three could see, _Mama still needs a babysitter for tonight._

“Oh? She goin’ anywhere fancy?” Sans hated the way he felt right now, panicked and jealous and other terribly draining emotions. It wasn’t like him at all to get worked up over anything, but the thought that Toriel might have a date with someone else, someone taller and richer who wasn’t running up a tab bigger than he was, it was just torture. This was what he got for sitting around doing nothing!

Still, if she was seeing someone, that was her business. He was happy for her. No big deal.

 _She’s got to go to this work meeting and say out late,_ Frisk explained, _sounded boring really_.

“Oh, okay.” Ha, take that imaginary date made up just now!

“Hey, I’ve had a great idea!” exclaimed Papyrus, “well, I’ve never had a bad idea before, so that shouldn’t be too surprising, but anyway: what if me and Sans offer to babysit you?”

Frisk thought for a moment, rubbing their chin.

“Come on, we’ll have so much fun!”

_Okay then! I’d love that. And I’m not sure Mama would trust anyone else._

“Now hang on a minute,” Sans spoke up, “Pap, you can’t just make plans for me like that.”

“Oh come on Sans,” Papyrus chided, “it’s not like you were planning on doing anything when you got home.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“We like Frisk! It will be fun!”

“They’re not even a baby, how can we sit on them?” he joked.

“Sans be serious!”

“Okay. But I’ll be asleep before they will be, I can bet that much.”

Frisk gave a pout.

_I’m sure Mama will appreciate your help. She was so worried she wouldn’t find someone she trusts!_

“She trusts us?” asked Papyrus.

_Of course!_

“Oh wowie that’s wonderful to hear!” Papyrus pulled the two kids to his chest, still keeping a hold on them, “I am a responsible trustworthy adult!”

“Pap, you’re squishing me,” wheezed Kid.

“Oh, my sincerest apologies.” And at last, they were set down.

 _Hey Kid_ , began Frisk, _would you like to come over too?_

Kid shrugged as nonchalantly as they could manage, ignoring the blush on their face. “Yo, that sounds cool, it really does, but I got stuff to do and can’t really be spending every day at your place, y’know? I won’t get anything done.”

_I understand. Oh, your house._

The four came to a halt in front of a neat little semi-detached home, flower beds overflowing and grass sparkling.

 _Your garden looks great!_ Frisk commented.

“Uh, thanks,” Kid replied, “our new gardener’s pretty good, just wait til you see the back! There’s a goldfish pond now! I’m not allowed near it though.” They shrugged again. “My parents are worried I’ll drown. It looks pretty though!” They opened their mouth to say something else, but quickly closed it without a sound. “Anyway, see ya!” They vaulted the gate and were down the garden path before Frisk could even move their hands to reply.

“Odd,” Sans noted, “they don’t _kid_ around with goodbyes, huh?” He snickered to himself and began walking again. “I suppose we should be saying ‘adios’ too, soon. So, see ya later then?”

Frisk nodded. _I’ll ask Mama later and she’ll phone you about it._

“Oh goodie, I know we’re going to have so much fun!” Papyrus clapped his hands excitedly, “tell you what, I’ll bring a board game along too!”

 _Great_ , and with that, they too dashed off.

“So…” Papyrus began slyly as they crossed the street, “this is your big chance, huh?”

“I… don’t follow.”

“Oh come on,” Papyrus wore the smuggest grin Sans had ever seen on him, “think about it. Looking after Ms Dreemurr’s tiny child? How could I leave you out of such a wonderful opportunity?”

“Oh… _oh_ …” Sans yanked his hood over his cropped black hair to hide his scowl and blush.

“'Oh' indeed! And when Ms Dreemurr sees how much of a wonderful, responsible man you are, and how much you love little Frisk, she will insist you two get married straight away so you can be Frisk’s dad and then you will live happily ever-”

“That’s not how it works Pap!” Sans was almost completely buried in his hood now, as red as his brother’s scarf.

“Sure it is! At the very least, it is your chance to impress her!”

“Shut up,” he hissed, “I don’t want to impress her!”

“Then why did you ask me to teach you to cook that time?”

“Because I wanted to spend time with my brother?” Sans ducked into a side-street, Papyrus trotting along behind him.

“We already spend tons of time together! And you just stuff your face with bar food anyway so why else would you want to learn to cook?”

“Maybe I wanted to start eating healthier?”

“Pie is not a healthy option!”

 

…

 

Frisk closed the door quietly behind them so as not to startle anyone. They could hear the low mumble of the tiny portable telly in the kitchen, and Toriel bustling about probably making dinner whilst watching some awful soaps. They thought soaps were boring and yucky, but didn’t say so to Toriel. If they were on, they’d either leave or find something else to preoccupy themselves with, like homework. And if Toriel wasn’t watching soaps, she was watching awfully long soppy films with lots of smooching and singing every five seconds whilst knitting or marking. Her favourite way to unwind, though, was reading huge thick books on pretty much every subject imaginable: zoology, history, cookery, sewing, anything she felt like. And spending time with Frisk, of course.

They wandered into the kitchen to find their suspicions confirmed, and that Toriel was wandering around the kitchen, stirring a bowl of mix whilst actors who weren’t very good at acting shouted at each other from a tiny box on top of the fridge.

“Ah, there you are, my child. Good day, I assume?”

It was safe to say Toriel was proud of her home, everywhere decorated with crocheted doilies, quirky little ornaments, and lace, as tasteful as possible. The kitchen had a purple colour scheme, with a round wooden table covered in a lilac tablecloth clad in drawings of woodland creatures with a pot of wildflowers balanced in the middle. It was here that Frisk sat as they greeted their mother.

“Hello Mama,” they whispered.

“Hello dear. How was school?”

“Fine. Found a babysitter.”

Toriel didn’t look as pleased as they’d hoped, and the kid frowned as they waited for her to reply. “I see. Honestly, I was just about to phone and cancel. I still think it is too early to be leaving you alone for such a time.”

Frisk pouted, resting their chin in their hands. “But I won't be alone. I'll have Sans and Papyrus. You like them, right Mama?”

Toriel paused. “They were the ones who volunteered? Oh, well, yes. They are lovely boys. I suppose if it came down to it-”

“They can look after me, right?”

The room fell silent as Toriel pondered for a moment. “Well, indeed I would find them a suitable option, and this meeting is important. But if you want it is honestly no problem to cancel.”

“Mama. I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

"I... suppose you are right; you are seven now, after all. Fine, I will phone them later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow build, I’m sorry. Gotta set the scene and introduce people. Don't want everything too rushed. It's not going to be as slow as Red Doll either [for those who read it]. I like to think I've had some practice coming up with story ideas over the past 3 years, given that it's my favourite thing to do.  
> I feel quite proud of myself for not giving the entire plot away yet!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I keep delaying this. It’s a slow start before getting to the good stuff and I’m always tired for some reason. And constantly distracted by the littlest things. Plus I had two tests this week I had to revise for.
> 
> I think I’m starting to get the hang of these characters, but everything’s still scary and new and I’m curious about how people will like the story when it’s all finished and done, ehe.
> 
> Still, thanks so much for taking an interest in this. It means so much. I hope this plot won’t disappoint. I wonder what everyone thinks will happen...

 

“Are you sure this is okay?” Toriel asked yet another time, clutching her handbag with a little too much force. It was late evening now, but the sun was still hanging on and the shadows of the surrounding buildings were only just starting to lengthen. It was warm out, hot even, but Toriel had decided to wear her best cardigan, complete with shiny brooch, because the walk home would certainly be cold, plus, she needed to set a good example for the other staff in everything down to dress sense.

It didn’t feel ‘okay’ to her, leaving Frisk alone for the evening, not being by their side. Then again, they wouldn’t exactly be alone.

Just separated from her.

The others, she had faith they wouldn't be left alone, but that hadn't happened and the trust she had when it came to others and her children was damaged. For good, it seemed.

But Frisk needed their independence or they'd never step out of her shadow!

Sans and Papyrus stood in the doorway, trying their best to look trustworthy and responsible. She wasn’t sure why they were putting in so much effort; she definitely trusted them, and knew Papyrus had a good heart, Sans too. Was it for her benefit? Well she certainly appreciated the effort. It let her calm down that bit more, though she still wasn’t completely relaxed, and never would be in this situation. She’d let her guard down once before, gotten too complacent and look where it landed her!

“Of course, Ms Dreemurr!” Papyrus beamed, practically buzzing with anticipation and unable to stop himself giving a little salute.

“Oh please,” she chuckled, “Toriel is fine. I keep telling you.” No one referred to their lecturers by their lasts names at this level of education, but it was a habit Papyrus was finding hard to shake. 

“Bed time is at eight,” she told them yet another time, “I baked a pie which is cooling on the kitchen worktop. They are allowed one slice and one hour of television before bed, and you two are welcome to as many slices as you like and can watch what you want when Frisk is asleep, within reason. My number is by the phone in the hall; call me the moment something goes wrong, or if you have any questions.” 

“Nothing will go wrong,” Sans insisted, “there’s two of us and one of them. I’m sure we can both keep an eye on the kid. We don't _kid_ around with this kind of business.”

Toriel sighed before kneeling down and giving Frisk a tight hug. “Be good, you,” she ordered, “and I will see you tomorrow. Listen to what Sans and Papyrus tell you, understand? Or you will be _sans_ a happy mummy.”

Frisk nodded, hugging her back just as tight before letting go and jumping back. 

“I am serious about the pie,” Toriel added after straightening up, “you both look like you are in need of good food. I have some leftover chicken in the fridge too; feel free to warm that up.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Sans replied, "I've always wanted to give your cooking a _pie_."

“Well then,” Toriel shifted awkwardly, “I really should be going.” Her face said it was the last thing she wanted to do.

Frisk gave a wave before dragging their babysitters back and shutting the door. They turned to the other two, rubbing their hands together.

_ Okay now what?, _  they asked.

Papyrus beamed as he pulled a cardboard box out of his shoulder bag. “Connect four!”

Frisk clapped their hands together and ran into the sitting room, Papyrus soon following. 

“Hey, I’m just gonna look around, if that’s okay with you?” And by that, he was going to look through all of Toriel’s things and find the food. Because he was a terrible houseguest at heart. Just ask Grillby!

He could leave the other two alone for a few minutes, right? It’s not like they’d set fire to anything or accidentally set off an explosion. Or eat all the food. Well, he hoped not. 

Sans wandered into the kitchen, catching a noseful of the pie resting by the window and taking a peek in the fridge to find a plate of quarter chickens covered in red seasoning and marinade. The others didn’t seem too hungry so he left the food for later and moved back into the hall, taking in the various profession and not-so photographs of mother and child lining the walls. Although he had a handful of photos with his mother, Papyrus had none, given that she’d died within minutes of him being born, and at the time it didn’t look like her infant child would live for long either. But Pap pulled through somehow, not for the last time. 

He would never be able to tell Papyrus the truth. The kid might blame himself! As far as he knew, their mother left to become a dolphin trainer when he was little, and it was something their dad had been all too pleased to go along with for the time being, to keep his youngest in that little bubble of innocence, or ignorance.

Sans’ socks patted over the carpet as he walked through the hall. The window at the end was spilling in blinding late afternoon sunlight across the walls, floor and the pot of flowers resting on a little table. Everything from the yellow wallpaper to the petals slowly falling onto the shining varnish screamed gently of spring and summer, of warmth. Just like Toriel. 

A sign hanging from the door next to him caught his eye, and he gulped as he pulled on the handle.

Toriel’s room was neat, like the rest of the house, and cosy-looking, with more books and flowers and the comfiest bed he’d ever seen, complete with a thick quilt. If he was completely honest with himself, he was exhausted after shifts at two different jobs today and the temptation to take a nap was almost too much to resist.

He nearly slipped on the polished floorboards as he moved further into the room, deciding it highly rude to look through her drawers or at the contents of her desk, and took a peek out the window at the garden before glancing back at the bed. The irresistible urge to take a nap was back. There were pillowcases on the pillows and everything; he’d not used pillowcases in months! And under the quilt was probably a thick, fluffy duvet covered in a clean sheet and that crochet blanket draped over the bottom half added an extra layer of warmth!

How much trouble would he be in if Toriel came home to find him asleep? It would probably depend on what incredibly dangerous and irresponsible things Papyrus and Frisk did that he could’ve prevented by being awake. 

Still, he could cross that bridge when he came to it, Sans decided as he pulled off his jacket and climbed onto the bed, quilt cool under his t-shirt and skin. If he didn’t get under the covers, move the cushions and upset everything, maybe Toriel would never know and he was comfy like this, more so than he ever was in his own bed, tiny and never made, or whatever corner of the pub he chose to curl up in. Toriel’s bed was a large queen-size, one he could stretch out on like a starfish and feel truly in heaven. What would be better? Well, maybe snuggling next to Tori’s warm body, her arms around him, him taking in her smell, maybe even tickling her face with his stubble. Even now, though she wasn’t here, the scent of perfume and cinnamon clung to the blankets and he rolled onto his front to take a whiff of one of the pillows. 

And, out of the corner of his eye, he caught Papyrus and Frisk glaring at him from the doorway.

“Ahem,” his brother began, and Sans yelped as he jumped off the bed. He didn’t look either of them in the eyes as he desperately petted cushions and straightened the quilt.

“I was just gonna take a nap,” he mumbled, snatching up his jacket, “the bed looked comfy.”

“Sans you are supposed to be helping me look after the child!” He jerked an arm towards Frisk, who was preoccupied with giggling.

“You seemed to be doing a good job by yourself.”

_ I came to find you because Papyrus keeps cheating at Connect four _ , Frisk told him with the flattest expression. 

“I do not!” Papyrus huffed, hands now on his hips as he puffed out his chest, “the Great Papyrus never cheats! I have no need for such a thing.”

_ You keep making up rules that let you win! _

“I am simply increasing the fun value of the game.”

_ For you maybe! _

Sans scrubbed his face with a hand, giving a long, slow sigh. “Pap, cool kids don’t cheat. If it’s not in the rule book, it doesn't belong in the game.”

“Right-o, brother!”

“And Frisk,” Sans gulped, “please don’t tell yer mother about this.”

Frisk rubbed their chin, smiling a devilish grin. 

Sans groaned. “I’ll let you have an extra slice of pie if you don’t tell the old lady.”

_ I guess you don’t want me to tell Mama what you just called her either. _

“If you please.” 

“So,” Papyrus shifted uncomfortably, “why were you here? In Ms Dreemurr’s room.”

“Like I said bro, I was trying to sleep.”

_ Why were you smelling Mama’s stuff? _

“Because she smells nice, you’ll understand when you’re older.” Sans wondered if he could take a leaf from his brother’s book and climb out the window to escape an awkward situation, because if this wasn’t awkward he didn’t know what was. 

_ I think pie smells nice.  _

“Yeah, lazybones!” Papyrus beamed, “stop sleeping in other people’s beds and prepare us some pie whilst I beat this child fare and square!”

Well, time to scrape some dignity back. He didn’t even know dignity was important to him until this very moment where it had been taken away in such a humiliating manner. 

“Yeah alright, c’mon kid,” he chuckled, ruffling Frisk’s hair as he walked past. “And big kid.” He reached up to pat Papyrus’ stomach, causing the guy to giggle, hands over his mouth. 

“Now, get outta here before Toriel comes home and wonders what the hell we’re doing here lookin' all _quilty_.”

 

…

 

After that initial incident, the evening continued on as normal. Papyrus and Frisk eventually grew bored of connect four, and moved on to a simple word game Frisk had referred to as ‘Constantinople’ after writing the word at the top of two pieces of paper. Luckily for Sans, it was a silent game, and neither had said a word since finishing their chicken and pie, the bones and crumbs left on the plates scattered across the coffee table. He really should clean those up, Sans mused, but for the time being he was comfy sprawled out on the sofa, eyes drooping as he yawned, feeling heavier each second. He could always take a nap now; the other two were sat across from each other at the table in front of him, scribbling away like their futures depended on it.

Papyrus groaned and rubbed his face, throwing his pencil on the table and leaning back. 

“Okay,” he sighed, “I admit defeat. 10 words made from the letters in ‘Constantinople’. Beat that, child who has never taken an exam.”

Frisk grinned, turning their paper around and sliding it across the table.

_ 26. _

Papyrus gritted his teeth, exhaling sharply. “I cannot even beat a small child! What a fantastic university student I am. Ms Dreemurr will be so disappointed when she finds out.”

“Relax bro, you study cooking, not english.”

“I know, but…” Papyrus scanned the list of words before him, tongue between teeth, double-checking and nodding to himself. “Uh huh, 26 it is. How did you get so smart?”

_ School. _

“Right.”

Sans laughed before glancing down at his watch, sitting bolt upright. “Hey kid! You only got half an hour before bed. Want Paps to read you a story, or another game?”

_ Story! _

“Oh goodie!”

“Okay then, get pyjamas on and teeth brushed and all that. Pap will be up in a bit. Be good or you'll have a _bed_ time!”

Frisk nodded and scrambled up, disappearing out the room as Papyrus sighed and poked at the mess on the table.

“Hey, will you clean these up?” he asked.

“Okay.” Sans didn’t move.

“Now.”

“Okay.”

Papyrus groaned. “You’re not going to, are you?”

“I will yeah!”

Another groan. Papyrus stacked the plates in a neat pile and stood up, carrying them across the hall to the kitchen. Sans grinned to himself as he snuggled deeper into the sofa, which, funnily enough, also smelt like Toriel. It was bad and he knew it, but if he put off doing something long enough, Papyrus usually ended up doing it for him, and that suited them both just fine.

As if on cue, Papyrus stuck his head back round the door, frowning at him like a disappointed parent. 

“Sans,” he dragged the word out, “if those dishes aren’t washed by the time I’ve finished Frisk’s story, I’m telling Ms Dreemurr just how much of a slacking weirdo you really are.”

“But Pap!”

“Get to it, lazybones.”

Sans let out a pained groan as he hauled himself off the sofa. On the other hand, his brother could occasionally find a way to get him off his slothful butt. Occasionally. 

 

…

 

“Well, I have to say the place is spotless,” Toriel noted as she glanced around, “if I did not know any better, I would scarcely believe a growing child lived here.”

“Well,” Sans stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible, “we just tidied up as we went along. Nothing too _frisky_.”

"Haha, good to know."

Papyrus, who had actually been the one to tidy as  _ he _ went along, glared from the sofa, but said nothing. If it would help his brother look good in front of Ms Dreemurr, then he’d let him take the credit this time, as frustrating as it was. Besides, all they did was wash up and put Frisk’s toys away. Any lazybones could do that.

“Well, I appreciate the effort, boys,” she nodded to both of them. “And Frisk seemed happily asleep when I went to check on them. Well done. I hope they were not too much trouble.”

“Of course not! They’re a good kid.” They really were, Sans believed. He was certainly fond of the little tyke and their strange ways.

“That is wonderful to hear.” Toriel paused before fishing out a handful of notes- $24- from her purse. “Oh, here is your pay. Do not think for a second that I would forget!”

“Thank you.” Sans stuffed the notes into his pocket, handing half to his brother.

Toriel smiled warmly. “Would you both like to stay for tea? As a thank you for being extra helpful.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, Ms Dreemurr, but we really should be going,” Papyrus glanced out the window, “it’s getting dark out and we need to get back before Grillby closes the pub.”

“We got plenty time. One quali-tea cup won’t hurt, bro-”

“Why not stay over?” Toriel asked, more to her surprise than anyone else’s. 

Both brothers turned to face her, heads tilted slightly. Neither were sure they’d really heard that.

“What I mean is,” she began, “it is rather dangerous to be walking around this time of night, and it is chilly now the sun has gone down.”

“We don’t want to be a bother,” Sans murmured, “it’s fine, really.”

“Oh no, I insist,” Toriel clapped her hands together, “it is no trouble at all! I am afraid I only have the sofa though.”

“That’s fine, Tori,” Sans waved a hand, “we like sharing, and we don’t take up much room.”

“Sans sleeps anywhere, anyway,” Papyrus added, ignoring his brother’s glare, “anytime of the day. I found him in the bottom of the airing cupboard once, curled up next to the boiler with a mouse building a nest in his hood.”

“I’m like a cat; there’s a meowntain of places I can squeeze into for a nap,” Sans added with a blush; well, at least Pap hadn’t blabbed. But way to make him look like a lazy shit! And unsanitary too.

“How sweet,” Toriel commented, laughing at the pun and seemingly genuine.

Sans laughed nervously as Papyrus made himself comfortable on the sofa. Why was he always like this around Toriel? Ever since they’d become friends, and he'd found out how much they had in common, Sans had been slowly slipping into a downwards spiral of acting like a complete dick. He felt things that were, quite frankly, exhausting and unlike anything he was used to. He was distracted all the time, thinking up funny things he could’ve said in conversations, on top of the funny things he’d already said. He loved her laugh. It was ungraceful, full of snorts and bleats, but he found it beautiful. He found himself wiling away the long hours at work daydreaming about her, between skiving off and taking breaks. 

What could he say? Not one of the multiple jobs he’d had since 14 had even been remotely fun, from strawberry picking to bar work. He knew what he wanted to do, but some half-hearted attempts at starting a career in his teenage years had put a juddering stop to his dreams before they’d really started. Besides, he couldn’t just up and leave Papyrus, or force him to come along when he had settled so well into his life here.

“Um, how about you two stay there whilst I get some blankets?” Toriel suggested. “Then we can have that tea.”

“Sure thing,” Sans smiled warmly as she left and plopped himself onto the sofa, snuggled up next to his brother. Papyrus wasn’t the most comfortable person to hug, but Sans didn’t care; he still gave the best hugs. Besides, that enormous patchwork jumper his brother always wore was certainly warm, especially now in summer. Papyrus draped an arm over Sans’ shoulder, squeezing his arm gently. 

“Sans,” he piped up anxiously, “do you think Ms Dreemurr will ever let us escape, or are we just trapped here?”

“Yes, Pap,” Sans rolled his eyes, shoulders twitching as he suppressed a giggle, “she’s just being nice.”

“Oh. Well then, that was lovely of Ms Dreemurr,” he commented, “letting us stay.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t mind the sofa either then?”

Sans frowned. “Course not.”

“Even though I’m sure you have a better place in mind,” the way those words were spoken made the hairs on the back of Sans’ neck stand up. Just where was Papyrus going with this?

“Oh?” he asked.

“Yes. That warm, soft bed upstairs.”

Oh God. Even Papyrus, innocent as he was, had caught on. Where did he even learn to pick up on those things? Or anything about those things, for that matter. Just what the hell had Undyne been teaching him? Besides how to get kicked out of university.

He was sweating now, wiping his hands on his t-shirt before replying. “Err, what makes you think that?”

“Why you were trying to sleep there, silly!” One of Papyrus’ awkward, lanky arms swung across the air as punctuation. 

Maybe not, maybe not.

“Of course, it seems like a comfy place to nap and,” Papyrus leaned in closer, but did little to lower his voice, “a perfect place to smooch-”

“I have spiced tea, green tea,” Toriel rattled off a list of her various beverages as she strode through the door, monologue cut short by a rather uncharacteristic screech coming from Sans.

“Oh,” Toriel blinked, coming to an awkward halt in the doorway, “is something wrong?”

“Nothing!” Sans and Papyrus shrieked at the same time.

“Ya just scared us a bit,” Sans added, hand on his heaving chest. Just how much had she heard here? Maybe it _was_ possible to die of embarrassment. 

“Oh my, I am so sorry,” there was genuine shock on her apologetic face, eyes wide with horror and a plate-like hand clutching her brooch. “I did not mean-”

“Hey it’s cool!” Sans waved a hand airily, “I’m just sleepy.”

Toriel beamed. “Luckily I have these then.” She threw a pile of fleece blankets on top of them, and the pair giggled.

“So,” she told them, perching next to Sans, “what kind of tea would you like?”

 

…

 

Half an hour later, and Sans was curled up on his side, his brother’s bony arms keeping him from falling on the floor. It wasn’t the most awkward place he’d ever had a kip, but it wasn’t a soft queen-sized bed in the arms of-

Oh what was wrong with him? 

He was comfy enough here. Pap was falling asleep next to him, breathing steady and tickling Sans’ ears with his hair. Their blankets were already tangled between their legs, the hot air still something of a problem even at night. It was rather stuffy here, but nothing too uncomfortable, and Sans knew he would soon be asleep after a long day. The silence was beautiful, serine, far away from the buzz of noise coming from below the floorboards that he usually had to put up with, or the smell and mess that always clung to his room. In fact, he wondered if he’d be able to sleep without such an environment. 

“Hey, Sans.” 

He almost missed his brother’s whisper, so unused to hearing Papyrus being anything but embarrassingly loud and flamboyant.

“Yeah bro?”

Papyrus propped himself up on an elbow, eerily serious.

“You… you really like her, do you not?”

A drawn out sigh was the only answer Sans could immediately give. He never kept anything from Pap unless he felt it was for the boy’s own good.

“Yeah. Big time, buddy.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tiny chapter, I know. More of a little filler than anything, hinting at what I guess a lot of people have figured out. The plot starts to pick up next chapter.

It wasn’t like they’d never heard their mother cry before. This was a horrible- if relatively rare- scene they'd become accustomed to over the past three years. It wasn’t even the fact that they didn’t know why she was crying, again. It wasn’t that they absolutely hated the sight of those fat teardrops rolling down her face, now red and blotchy, so ugly and scary a look for Toriel. She sobbed and her breath shuddered, the noise terrifying Frisk because they knew there was nothing they could do to stop it. Their wall calendar was in her hands, and even from where they were lurking, they could see a sharp red circle over today’s date. A mutter. She couldn’t believe she let the date sneak up on her. What date? They wouldn’t be able to help if they didn’t even know what the problem was. No, it wasn’t those reasons that were the main concern for them, this time.

It was probably because Toriel had spotted them hiding behind the door, and now things were terribly awkward.

“Oh my child,” Toriel hiccupped, wiping a tear away with a stout finger. “I did not see you there.”

“Mama?” they piped up, stepping into the room and tip-toeing over to Toriel.

“Yes dear?” she smiled, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Do you need something?”

Frisk shook their head. They climbed onto their mother’s lap, catching the tiniest glances at the calendar before Toriel hurried to close the thing and place it on the table.

“Why are you crying?” they finally asked. Toriel wouldn’t tell, but they had to chance it. Maybe today they’d finally find out everything they wanted to know about their new mother.

When they thought about it- and they didn’t like to- Frisk realised they knew next to nothing about Toriel’s past, other than it wasn’t good. They had a sneaking suspicion she had other children before them- possible siblings- but every time the subject came close to being broached, she would find something else to talk about instead, usually the most trivial, irrelevant topics her panicked mind could throw together. What was she hiding? What had happened to these other children that was so horrible it needed to be kept from them? And where were they now? Maybe she needed time, they’d always told themselves. She would tell them of her own accord. She would eventually.

But they wanted to know now!

But asking would make Mama cry more.

“Child…” Toriel looked anywhere but at Frisk’s face, just like every other time she seemed to be avoiding thinking of something. “I am fine. Really.”

“But-”

“I am fine,” she pulled her child closer, rubbing their back and Frisk knew she’d started crying again. “It is nothing, honestly.”

“Mama are you hurt?” they whispered, and Toriel didn’t answer immediately. They could feel her arm moving to brush away tears before returning to Frisk’s shoulder blade. They adored their mother’s hugs, so big and warm, feeling like nothing could get through Toriel’s arms to hurt them. Their own little fortress of love and kindness. 

Even now, when their mother seemed to be in so much pain, they felt safe and loved, and agonised as they wondered just how they were to help her. Why couldn't they protect her from the bad things?

“I am not; do not worry my dear,” Toriel soothed. “I am just having a bad day.”

“Is it something hugs and kisses can make better?” Frisk knew they were getting nowhere. As frustrating as it was, talking to Toriel about whatever was upsetting her wasn’t doing the tiniest bit of good. They wondered if there was another way to get to the bottom of this, and if they could find it without being caught. 

Hey, it was worth a shot.

“Yes, hugs and kisses would most definitely make my day better.” Before they knew what was happening, Toriel lifted them up and blew a giant raspberry on Frisk’s cheek, causing the child to burst into peals of laughter.

“Tickle fight!” they cried, hands darting towards their mother as Toriel burst out laughing.

“Oh it is on!” Frisk nearly screamed as Toriel pinned them to her lap and attacked their tummy with tickles. They howled as they kicked their chunky legs, noise joined by Toriel’s bleating chortle as they rolled off her lap and onto the fluffy carpet with a thud.

“Oh my,” Toriel continued to giggle as she wiped yet more tears away, thankfully ones of joy this time. “Come now, get up. I feel much better now, thank you.”

 

…

 

Later on that day, Toriel dropped a still-giggling Frisk off at Grillby’s. Not her first choice of day care by a long shot, but Mr Grillby was a responsible man, a parent himself and well-equipped to deal with growing children. He was also one of the few fluent Auslan signers she knew off the top of her head, the others being the two brothers he was looking after, Sans and Papyrus. Such sweet boys. Shame they hadn’t been there to keep Frisk company too, but the older was working and the younger off studying with Undyne, which was a relief to hear. Those two were good kids, but probably the reason she went grey so early. Or at the very least, one of the reasons.

If she was honest, maybe it was for the best that Sans was absent. They could end up talking for hours, sharing the silliest jokes they’d heard since last time they met, and she honestly needed to do this before the sun set.

Graveyards were rather terrifying places at night.

Not to mention, her heart wasn't set on light, silly joking.

Toriel popped into the local florists’, not even needing to browse before choosing a pair of yellow bouquets, the same as last year. These two had a more noticeable wilt to them, but the smell was exactly the same. It was the last thing she remembered every time she left them. 

She thanked the salesmen and exited the shop, pausing in the doorway to take another sniff. Such a beautiful, sorrowful scent.

Toriel straightened her dress and began walking again, drawing in slow, deep breaths and focusing on the sound of her sandals slapping against the pavement. Today was never an easy day for her, but the overwhelming guilt that- between Frisk, work, friends, and all the stress that went with it- she’d almost forgotten what the day was, or what it meant to her. She’d never fully forget, of course not, but it was the first year she hadn’t fixated on it for weeks beforehand. Was she finally beginning to move on? 13 years later, it was about time.

Was moving on right though? It felt horrible to her, in a way, like she was going to forget them or insult their memory by moving forward with her life. 

But how could she possibly forget them? If three years of loving and caring for Frisk had taught her anything, it was that loving others didn’t mean she loved everyone she’d lost less. They were still with her, but if she was to pick herself up and move on, she couldn’t let them haunt her the way they did. For the ten years before Frisk came along, there were times where she could even delude herself into thinking what happened was just a dream, just imagine the people she’d lost by her side again, where she could keep them safe and nothing bad had ever happened. But terrible things had torn her happiness apart and she’d been unable to stop them, and when the delusions were gone that was all that remained. That and the crushing loneliness.

She could cope with the feelings now though, even if she knew damn well that bottling them up still wasn’t helping. But how could she burdan tiny Frisk with all this weight? The child was too young to know, but she promised herself she would tell them eventually. It wouldn't be for a few years, but the thought of how they might react frightened her. Would they resent her withholding such information? She wondered if they already did. The child knew something was up, they were too smart to fall for her fibs, but it was her secret to share, and she wasn't ready to share just yet.

And with that looming, ominous thought, she stepped through the gates of the local graveyard. Toriel hoped they wouldn't mind her being a tad late.


	5. Chapter 5

Although that particular incident hadn't been forgotten, Frisk didn’t bring it up again or mention it to anyone, and soon the days were rolling into weeks as the summer holidays drew nearer, the world seemingly enveloped in a haze of blistering sun that had long passed 'comfortable'. They’d already made two notebook pages worth of plans with Kid, detailing everything from exploring every inch of their neighbourhood to going to the beach to every film they hoped to see- but somehow failing to take holiday homework into account, whoopsie- that would hopefully keep them occupied over the next two months. Papyrus and Undyne had already completed their exams and were making the most of their well-deserved break, and when they weren’t causing trouble they were washing cars, Papyrus in particular hoping to save up for one of his own, as he’d explained to anyone who stood still around him for too long. He wanted a shiny, red convertible with leather seats, and although no one had the heart to mention he’d be washing cars for a painfully long time before he saved up enough, everyone had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t faze him anyway. Papyrus was rather dedicated, in that sense.

Undyne had been rather secret about what she was spending her pocket money on. Frisk knew it probably wasn’t their business anyway, and that Undyne was probably saving up for a cool replica sword or box set only available at the conventions she frequented, or something of the sort. Maybe she was hoping to move out of her family home? Frisk had heard her mentioning wanting to live on her own, once she had a stable job. But what kind of employer would want to take on someone so hot-headed and brash? Was there anything out there perfect for her? Frisk knew Undyne still wanted to do something sport-related, and that an office job behind a desk would kill her inside.

Still, they hoped for the best, like always. Undyne would figure something out. She was cool like that.

Right now though, they had more pressing matters to concern themselves with, most notably how to sneak into the kitchen for a glass of milk without Toriel catching them. 

They suppressed an anxious giggle as they crept along the hall, everything around them soft and silent, from the clear, inky sky outside to their bare feet, noiseless under the rug. Toriel’s room was empty- they could tell that much- and the glow seeping up the stairs and landing wasn’t as bright as they thought it should be. Mama wasn’t in the sitting room then, a thought confirmed as they walked down the stairs, but in the kitchen with the door closed. The usual sound of clacking needles or muffled Pollywood films was replaced by the clinking of china, and the low mumbles of uneasy conversation, Toriel and a stranger’s voice.

Curious, Frisk put all thoughts of milk aside and crept closer to the kitchen, tucking their hair back and placing an ear to the cool paint of the door. 

“I have to say, I missed you so much,” the stranger’s voice was deep and male, with a strange, melodic accent they couldn’t place. It’s rumble seemed to be shaking the door, even, despite the man’s attempts to whisper. Toriel remained silent.

“Golly, you have not changed a bit,” he tried again, “well, time doesn’t seen to have been any kinder to you than to me but neverthele-”

“Why are you here?” Toriel’s words were hoarse, but stern. Not broken like this other person’s voice. They’d never heard her so harsh before, almost hateful. Was this a bad man? He didn’t sound like one.

“Here? I, well, you see… um…”

“Answer me, Dreemurr.”

Dreemurr? Frisk frowned as they stood on their tiptoes, as if that would make everything clearer. Someone with Toriel’s surname? A relative maybe? 

“I noticed, when you let me in,” this Dreemurr man continued, “there are no mementos of, well, them. Why-”

“I want to move on.” Toriel interrupted, sharp and harsh, “I cannot do that surrounded by reminders, and besides, I do not want Frisk asking questions.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I am not ready to tell them yet.” An uneasy silence fell between the two.

Frisk was thoroughly confused now. Who was this person anyway? A relative? And who did Mama want to forget? They pondered going in; maybe Mama would have to tell them if they demanded to know who this man was, or maybe even who they were talking about. No, they wanted to actually know what was going on! Mama would never tell, and just get upset they were still up. Plus, they were more than a little scared to meet this new stranger. He sounded big and scary.

“You still have not told me why you are here.” Toriel’s voice had lost its edge, now too exhausted for anger, even.

“You see, after I was sent… away…”

“Sent to prison. Go on.” They could almost hear the stranger’s flinch.

“I asked you to look after their things whilst I was gone.”

“I remember. They are stored in the attic. Do not worry; I kept them safe.”

The stranger seemed to be fidgeting, and it took a few moments before he could reply. “Would it inconvenience you to send, say, a box over? If you have the time, that is. I would like to have some of their things around, in my home, to look at.”

“I have some teacher training days and marking to get through, but I am sure I can arrange to send a box. Your request is more than fair.”

“Really? Golly, thank you so much. I have nothing to remember them by.” Frisk wondered if the stranger would start crying. He sounded so sad…

“And whose fault is that?”

And now he seemed to be crying. Well, Frisk detected a dry sob before he caught himself, and wondered if he would like a hug, since he sounded like he was in need of one. What had he done to make Mama hate him so much?

“Too far,” Toriel retracted, “I apologise.”

“It is true though,” the stranger’s voice was shattered, fragile, “I only have myself to blame. But I just miss them so much. I would do anything...”

“To have them back? Here is where we agree.” Toriel’s voice was softer now, not kind, but civil. “Although I feel this will not help you move on, having little provocations and sparks around your home.”

“All this time, and I cannot even fathom such a possibility as 'moving on'. How would it hurt to try this? Who knows? It might give me peace.” 

The flatness of his voice seemed to be unnerving Toriel as well as Frisk, and they wanted to run in and hug him, if they weren’t so unsure if he was good or bad. 

“I want to remember them because forgetting seems so… cruel? Easy?”

“Who said anything about forgetting?” Toriel sighed. “Just learning to live with the pain; that is enough.”

“But I miss them, so much that it is agony. I do not even want to get out of bed in the morning because the guilt is like an avalanche. Oh, nevermind. This probably is not what you want to hear.”

“It is not, but I suspect it is something you needed to tell.”

“Indeed.” More pausing. Another faint sigh. “Tori, d-”

“Toriel.”

“Toriel, is there any chance of me being… do you suppose I could visit again? I would love to meet this new child of yours. I have heard so much about them.”

“That would not be wise,” Toriel replied, voice strained and harsh as she tried not to snap. “I... yes, you cannot. Who has been telling you about them?”

“My clients. Some go to your university and have only good things to say about you and the child. It is a relief to hear that you both are safe and well.”

Frisk’s brows knotted together. Who was this person? Seriously, they needed to know! Why did he care about them, when they had never even met him, not once. They were touched nonetheless, that he asked after them and people were so keen to compliment them.

“Your concern is flattering, but unnecessary.”

“It is more than merely my concern. Naturally, I am curious about you both too, and how you are getting on.”

Toriel sipped from a teacup before placing it on the table with a delicate thud. “We are fine. Happy. I love Frisk very much, as much as I loved _them_. There are things I worry about when it comes to the child, but they are a sweet, kind person. Not that this is any of your concern, or that your curiosity is warranted or wanted. I do not want you to be a part of their life in any way. I know this is harsh, but I made up my mind long ago.”

“I see. Well, the teapot is empty, and it appears I may have outstayed my welcome.”

“Indeed.”

The scraping of chairs sent Frisk scurrying back up the stairs, into their room and under their duvet, not risking a peek as the stranger was led into the hall in case Mama caught them. Disappointing Toriel and breaking her rules was just not worth a glance. Besides, they had a lot to think about.

Something wasn’t right with Toriel’s past and they'd known ever since they'd moved in; that mystery man had clearly been important to her- her brother, maybe?; and they had a pretty solid idea that all the answers were hidden in the attic.

Would it be breaking their Mama’s heart if they had a little look? It seemed wrong, but it wasn’t like they'd ever been banned from going up there, just that they’d never had a reason to. Mama wouldn’t find out if they put everything back and didn’t leave any clues behind.

It felt dishonest, to go behind their mother’s back like this, but maybe there was a way they could help her! Then she would stop crying over calenders and memories.

That made what they were going to do okay, right?

Right?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh the good stuff starts next chapter, but first here’s some more… of whatever the hell this is. Soriel, I guess.

Well, Sans was officially an idiot, although several previous employers and coworkers would’ve commented that now was a tad late for such a revelation. Wasn’t his fault people mistook apathy for stupidity. 

Undyne and Papyrus snickered at him from the gate to Toriel’s house and the noise made him want to pull his hood up and skulk away, and he would’ve, had he not already rung the doorbell. Well, it’d be rude to run now, even though he’d probably trade a limb for the opportunity at this point.

It wasn’t a date! Even if the idea hadn’t gotten through to the other two- who he’d only roped in as babysitters, and if he didn’t need them he’d have without a doubt made them stay home- he was only asking Toriel to spend some time with him. As friends. They were good friends and had spent many a day together talking about their ‘kids’ and sharing jokes as they watched Papyrus and Frisk get into all sorts of mischief, Sans slowly falling for the gentle teacher. 

Who knew falling could take so much effort? 

Hell, it gave him no energy to do anything about said falling, except continue spending time with Toriel and hope she made the first move, which she probably wouldn’t because she was a whopping 14 years older than him and probably interested in guys her own age, if at all. Not to mention he wasn’t a career man, tall, handsome or even rich. Toriel clearly deserved someone who was all those things and a mile more. Herself and Frisk, they were the best [after Papyrus] and Sans wanted only the finest for them. And he was hardly ‘the finest’. Finest lazy pun machine on the outskirts of society, maybe, but that was about it.

He glanced behind him and gestured for the other two to hide as he heard the inside front door click open. Wheeling back to face Toriel as she opened the glass porch door and stepped outside, Sans only had time to discreetly straighten his shirt before she greeted him.

“Oh, good afternoon Sans,” her face seemed to light up as she spoke, “this is an unexpected pleasure.”

“Afternoon Tori,” he wondered if leaning against the doorframe would make him look suave, but decided not to risk it. 'Suave' was not a word that described anything he should be involved in; “how are you this beautiful day?”

Toriel tapped her chin, thinking for a moment. “Oh, fine, thank you. I have an annoying pile of marking to get through and am making plans to take Frisk and their friend to the park tomorrow. How about you?”

“Sans-sational! Say, how about getting out of that stuffy house and going for a walk?”

“Oh?” Toriel blinked, “well, that is rather sweet of you to say, but Frisk is a little busy right now.”

“Erm, I mean without Frisk. Just us.”

That idea didn’t seem any more appealing to her. “And leave them alone?”

“Nah, don’t sweat it,” Sans winked, “I got some babysitters enlisted.” And with that, Papyrus and Undyne jumped up with giggles, striking an elaborate pose and waving wildly to Toriel.

“Good afternoon, Ms Dreemurr!” Papyrus called, “we are here to look after our tiny friend and have the best time!”

“Oh you two,” Toriel covered a chuckle with her hand. “What am I going to do with you?”

“So, whaddiya say?” Sans glanced up anxiously.

“It is rather sudden…”

“Ah come on, I even called in sick to see you. Because I was _sick_ of not seeing my friend, heh.”

And with that, Toriel relented with a laugh. “Well if you are going to such lengths to spend time with me, I feel there must be something important to say.” Sans decided he’d imagined the blush forming on her cheeks.

“Well, partly,” Sans scratched the back of his head, “I also just really hate my job, y’know? So if we’re walking and an ice cream van drives past, don’t be surprised if I leap into a nearby hedge. And if anyone asks, I have scarlet fever.”

Toriel just sighed.

“You look kinda stressed too, if y’don’t mind me saying so,” Sans commented, “c’mon, just an hour or so then I’ll leave you alone. Who doesn’t like doing absolutely nothing every now and again?”

“Oh, well I suppose I have to now,” Toriel replied jokingly, “just let me get my bag and tell Frisk. Please, come in, all of you.”

Papyrus dashed past his brother, shaking Toriel’s hand vigorously and rambling about what he’d been up to since she’d released him and Undyne, after some rather painful weeks pushing them to finish all their work. Toriel would be lying if she said a large amount of stress hadn’t evaporated at the sight of them darting out the classroom cheering and giving each other a leaping high-five. Her classes were not _that_ dull, were they?

“I am glad to hear you are staying out of trouble,” Toriel told him, and in the doorway, Undyne barked a nervous laugh only heard by Sans, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, worn for 'cool factor' despite it being painfully hot. If there was one thing Ms Dreemurr didn’t need to know, it was that she and Papyrus had already been arrested since term ended. Luckily, no one was pressing charges and nothing more had been said, but the lecture from both her parents and Grillby was certainly unpleasant.

“Well, not exactly,” Papyrus grimaced, “there was that incident where we set fire to-”

“Hey Paps, my bestie,” Undyne slung an arm over his shoulders, covering his mouth with a hand, “let’s go find Frisky-face, kay?” Papyrus barely had time to nod before she was dragging him into the kitchen with a face like she was being tormented by a wasp.

“I am almost too scared to ask what happened,” Toriel told Sans, who just shrugged.

“They’re not going to jail, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he explained, “the old man gave ‘em a _grillin_ ’ when we went to pick them up though and I think they learnt their lesson after that.”

“Try not to take offense to this, but your brother and Undyne are the reason I lost what little colour was left to my hair.”

“Nah, I know, trust me when I say Pap is a worry. Anyway, I think the kid’s in safe hands, believe it or not. Those jokers in there are determined to be on their best behaviour after what happened.”

“That is not relieving to hear. You know how I feel about Frisk staying safe.” 

“How about just walking up and down the street? The kid’s not going anywhere, and they’re hardly a toddler anymore. I’m just worried you’re spending too much time inside.” Sans meant it; before anything else he was one of Toriel’s closest friends and she was pushing herself too hard. Then again, Sans was never one to push himself ever, so what did he know?

“Well, I suppose if I will not be too far,” Toriel poked her head in the kitchen, “my child, I will be gone a short while. Please be good for Papyrus and Undyne. I shall not be long, but if you need anything, I will be outside.”

Frisk nodded, not looking up from their homework but giving a thumbs up as Toriel followed Sans outside. The moment the door closed, Papyrus giggled and made for the fridge.

“Hey, tiny,” he spoke up, “what sort of food does your mam like? Because we are gonna make her the ultimate best surprise treat in the history of treats!”

 

…

 

“It is nice to see Frisk has so many caring friends,” Toriel commented as they walked down the garden path. Like the rest of her home, Toriel put an extraordinary amount of effort into her garden and the flowers almost seemed to sparkle as Sans looked at them, although the weather had turned the grass an unhealthy shade of beige.

“The child was so lonely,” she added, “they did not have a lot of friends when they first started going to school, because they were so quiet. Only Kid would talk to them, understand them, and I appreciate that so much. Even now though, they are the only friend Frisk has their own age.”

“What’s wrong with their older friends?” Sans asked.

“Oh, nothing at all. Your brother and Undyne are the sweetest, but they cannot be there for Frisk at school, can they? I am too busy teaching them why they always set the oven temperature too high, when I am not telling off that other girl for brewing cider in class.”

“Someone actually did that?” Sans wondered who they were, so he could at least give her a high-five in person. The person in question was probably still grounded though.

“Oh yes, I am glad to say that is the worst incident I have had to deal with.”

Sans raised an eyebrow. “Really? Undyne hasn’t managed to destroy everything yet?”

“She has come close to it,” Toriel admitted, “though, I have to admit, and I hope this stays between us, she has been acting… odd these past few months.”

“Woah, really?”

“Yes. Distracted. She never seems to pay attention in class anymore.” Toriel sighed, “a few weeks ago, I even asked her a question to see if she was listening: name a type of bean I could use in this casserole we were making. Do you know what she said?”

“What?”

“Lez-bean.” Toriel frowned, “I had never heard such a thing until she said it, so I looked it up, and even then the results were not clear.”

“Err… wow. How silly of her.”

Yup, Sans was definitely not an idiot. Poor Undyne must be crushing pretty hard on someone and given that Papyrus hadn’t blurted anything out to him, the kid had either been sworn into secrecy or Undyne was determined to keep this person from even her best friend’s knowledge. Or, alternatively, it was a simple freudian slip.

But he wasn’t sure he wanted Toriel to know that, not that she’d really care.

They ambled down the pavement together, Toriel making sure to slow her strides to keep pace with the shorter man. Sans tried his best to look nonchalant, that there wasn’t something bothering him. Lots of things bothered him, if he was being honest, but he was usually so good at hiding everything, even from Papyrus if he thought necessary.

“Still, I am sure everything is fine for her, or will be,” Toriel added, “I cannot help feeling concerned for my students though. I know they are not my children, but I tend to mother them, I will admit. Even if they make me want to transfer to a primary school.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Sans sighed, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, “Pap is pretty much my whole world. And Frisk seems to think of me as an uncle. I love that kid.”

“That is wonderful to hear,” Toriel beamed, “the child needs all the love they can get. I fear they have a difficult journey ahead of them.”

“You mean with the whole gender thing?”

Toriel nodded. “That and, with their past, I do not know what sort of long-lasting effects they still have to go through.”

The two slowed to a halt, Sans seemingly lost in thought. “Hey, I know it’s none of my business, and you can tell me that but, well, what the hell happened?” Even as he said it, Sans knew he’d made a mistake, said too much and now he couldn’t take it back. He thought he was good at controlling what came out of his mouth, making his utmost sure to never say anything he didn’t mean to. Papyrus was the one that blurted things out and couldn’t keep a secret, but Sans was supposed to be calm and collected, humour hiding all. 

The question certainly seemed to make Toriel squirm. “I am not sure that is my secret to give, but Frisk has told me they do not mind you knowing, and I feel it will help you understand them better, as their uncle.” She gave the most half-hearted of laughs at that.

“Take your time.” Sans glanced around, back at the house just a few metres away.

And Toriel took her time, formulating the words perfectly in her head before even thinking about saying something. Not that they would come out as planned. “All we know about Frisk’s father is a name on a certificate. He did not want to know and the mum did not want the baby.”

“Oh boy,” Sans groaned, “I can see where this is going.”

“Indeed. She went on holiday with a new boyfriend. A neighbour found the child a week later, still in their cot nearly dead.” Toriel played with her hands as her face crumpled; “i remember reading the story in a newspaper and thought it was horrible. Frisk, they, well, they could not escape and had tried climbing out but could not and, oh, I could barely read it all. I did not expect to be matched with them when I applied for adoption a few years later.”

“Oh, geez.”

“I think they remember,” added Toriel, “more than they let on to remembering and I am worried for them.”

“Well, just let them know they can talk to you, and they will in time. C’mon, you know them better than I do, and I’m telling you they just need time, but they trust you. The kid thinks you’re the best!”

“I suppose, if you say.” Toriel sighed, “I just worry about them so much.”

“I know what you mean,” Sans gave her back a pat, “man Pap has been such a struggle. I love him so much, and boy have I tried my best to get him through life, but it’s never enough. Something new always comes up.” He sat on the low wall of the nearest house, hoping the residents weren’t home to take offense. It was Grillby who sorted out the legal and financial matters for the most part when they were younger, but Papyrus still trusted Sans as his sole confidante in every matter of his life. “It’s like everyone has it out for him. I’m so damn grateful he’s still a good person, but nothing can really get to Pap, I guess.”

“I am sure it has not been easy.”

“Yeah, man when Pap came out to me I cried when he was asleep. I mean, I was happy for him, but, damn he’d just gotten into uni and everything seemed to be going okay then this.”

“What is wrong with that?”

Sans hunched his shoulders, exhaling before continuing, “nothing. But it’s yet another thing people can be a dick to him about, y’know? I just want Pap to have an easy life and he’s not had that and… ugh.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Toriel ruffled his hair, “but when is life easy for anyone?”

“Yeah I suppose.” He straightened himself up to his rather meagre full height, “hey, at least Pap and Frisk have each other, huh?”

Toriel clapped her hands together. “Oh indeed,” she cooed, “so what has been happening with you? I seemed to have forgotten to ask.” 

She turned around and began ambling back towards her house, Sans following at a slightly faster pace. “Oh, not much. I have some business ideas rattling around in my head that I’m too lazy to make real.” Maybe now was a good time. Sans hadn’t planned it, but maybe if Toriel was having such a fun time now she would also like something with a more romantic flavour. It couldn’t hurt to try. Well, it could but Sans knew he couldn’t keep letting happiness evade him forever. He’d never been one to plan for the future, but he couldn’t shake visions of being part of a tiny, oddball family with Papyrus, Toriel and Frisk. Going to the park as a family. Days out as a family. A normal, happy family. With parents who liked smooching.

He was gonna do it! He was going to ask her out!

Toriel sighed. “Your brain if a gift, really Sans you should be doing something with it.”

“Sometimes I pretend I have telekinesis.” He would ask her out when the conversation was more appropriate.

“No,” Toriel ruffed her forehead, “something like, well, you have an interest in physics, right?”

“Yeah?”

“We have a large selection of science courses at the university.”

Well nevermind then. Sans didn’t know who he was kidding. He was a child to her! He didn’t have a chance at anything, except to regain his pride and keep his mouth shut on the subject for good.

It was a lovely offer though.

“Hey, I appreciate your suggestion and all, but, I gotta help Grillbz pay the bills. He doesn’t have a lot and we kinda just got dumped on him as kids.”

That brought a frown to Toriel’s face, “but surely he does not resent that, and would be happy to see you follow a career you love.” She stopped in front of her house, concentration completely on Sans and his answer.

“Oh he would, and keeps saying I should, but I can’t do that to him and Pap. The bar doesn’t make as much money as we’d like, so, ah, I need to just keep doing jobs badly to get some money in.”

That answer didn’t seem to make Toriel any happier, but before she could argue back, the sound of shattering glass caught their attention and turned her arms to lead. Sans knotted his brows together, turning his head to exchange a glance with Toriel, but she was already running down her garden path with a cry, and he had no choice but to follow her.

“What’s going on?” he asked in the doorway, chest heaving. He supposed the commotion came from the kitchen, because that was where Toriel was currently standing, blocking his view, and that was where he joined her, poking his head in past her to find a scene of chaos. 

The kitchen was a mess, food covering the walls and worktop and Sans swore there was even some dripping from the ceiling. A mi xing bowl of pastry sat solemnly next to the cooker, wooden spoon hanging over the edge like the most miserable periscope he’d seen. Frisk was sat on the kitchen table, safely out of the way and watching their friends with amusement. Said friends were kneeling on the floor, Papyrus fumbling around with a dustpan and brush whilst Undyne attempted to pick up the larger shards of what remained of a glass bowl and place them in the tiny wicker bin she was holding.

“Oh,” Papyrus glanced up, looking like a puppy caught with a torn up pillow, “um, hello Ms Dreemurr. We… were not expecting you back so early.” 

“What on earth were you doing?” Sans glanced up at the sound of Toriel’s voice, thin and pushed up into a wail. She clutched her chest as she glared down, eyes wide and supporting herself using the doorframe. She looked ill.

“We were only trying to surprise you with a nice pie,” Papyrus mumbled, refusing to look at anyone, “like you do for all of us all the time.”

“Pap accidentally kicked over a bowl,” Undyne added, the meekest and quietest Sans had ever seen her.

“Well that was pie-tty sweet of you,” he commented, trying to diffuse the situation before Toriel turned any paler, “just clean everything up, and don’t use your hands Undyne.”

“We didn’t mean to break anything!” Papyrus added, “I just thought a cool pose would make the pie taste all the more cool! I just-”

“Get out,” Toriel’s wispy voice managed to cut off everyone’s chaotic tirade, “all of you.”

“Come on Tori,” Sans glanced over at her, not liking her darting eyes one bit or the heaving of her chest, “they didn’t mean any harm.”

“Get out of my house and do not come near my child again!”

She darted to the table and picked up Frisk, clutching the child to her chest like the shards of glass were about to fly up and impale them. Frisk’s face was buried in the fabric of her dress, trapped by Toriel's trembling arms and unable to see the confusion etched in their friends’ faces, along with shame as Papyrus picked himself off the floor, not able to meet his teacher’s eye.

“Please, Ms Dreemurr, let me clear up. I promise I will do such a fantastic job you won’t even-”

“No, Papyrus, just leave.” Toriel couldn’t breathe. The room seemed to spin, distorting into a memory not hers, retold to stern figures with uniforms and clipboards, a memory that tore all she loved apart. It was going to take Frisk too. It would rip them from her arms. People she loved just didn’t last long.

How could they put Frisk in danger like that?

“Out!”  _ Get away from my child! _

_ Do not come near me again, Dreemurr! _

“Pap, Undyne, wait outside,” Sans’ growl sent the other two scurrying out of the room, after tumbling out yet more apologies.

“Hey, Tori, what’s wrong?” He took a step closer, but made no attempt to touch her. Frisk turned their head to plead with watery eyes as Toriel fell to her knees, but made no attempt to wriggle free.

“No,” she mumbled, “no, no, you cannot take them. Not my children. Not this time.”

“Tori please talk to me.” Sans knelt in front of her, close enough to touch but not daring to reach out. Toriel was sobbing now, running a hand through Frisk’s hair as the child remained frozen, bewildered and terrified.

“Give them back. Bring them back to me.”

 

...

 

“Mamma,” Frisk whispered as they stood in the doorway, unsure if they should disturb her. Toriel hadn’t said a word since the others left, sat slumped on the sofa staring at her hands, unmoving like a lonely, desolate teddy bear. 

“Oh, hello my child,” it seemed to take great effort for her to lift her head up. A pile of knitting was pooled on her lap, a string of pea green wool twirled between her fingers, entangling them like a slithering, lethal snake. Frisk shrank back.

“Please, sit with me, if you wish.” 

They tentatively stepped forward, eyes fixed on their mother as they crept across the room. Toriel was no longer looking at them, staring down at the wool. The warm evening sunlight spilling in through the windows did nothing to keep the chill crawling along their spine at bay, and they shivered as they climbed onto the sofa, snuggling up close to their mother.

“I am so sorry about earlier. I do not know what came over me.”

Sans eventually managed to calm her down, waiting patiently as Toriel cried and sobbed and Frisk wondered why she thought they were dead. They weren’t going anywhere if they could help it. They were a careful child, and whilst they loved exploring with Kid and getting into all sorts of mischief, they’d never do anything to put themselves in danger. They were too fearful. Surely their mama knew that?

Sans left with great reluctance- and relief- an hour ago, leaving Toriel in silence in order to, most likely, have a long talk with his brother and friend.

“Mama, don’t say sorry. You were scared. But why?”

"Oh, it is nothing. Silly things. Pay your silly mother no attention, my child."

Nothing they hadn't heard before, but after what happened, her reaction and anger and the stranger, this answer simply wasn't good enough anymore. Frisk wanted to know more. They couldn't let their mother suffer like this any longer and needed to complete the puzzle once and for all.

It was time to discover what was hidden in the attic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I haven’t abandoned this fic. I haven’t forgotten it or lost interest, I just had a bit of trouble writing this and kept feeling guilty about not updating some of my hetalia fics so decided to focus on them for a bit.  
> Things are starting to pick up now, as will- hopefully- the rate of future updates on this fic.  
> Also, warning for references to self-harm and suicide in this chapter.

They had two hours if they were lucky.

Well, an hour and a half now that Frisk had finally prized open the attic door and pulled down the ladder. They beamed proudly up at their handiwork, holding the metal hook used to do the job like a regal staff, the dust covering their hair a tiny crown. In their tiny dungarees and boots, they felt ready to fight a dragon, and as the weight of what they were about to do settled on their shoulders, they felt they might as well be fighting one.

Toriel was still downstairs, engrossed in yet another long winded documentary on the lives of bugs, and if luck was on their side, would not get up until it was over. That, in all honesty, should give them enough time to have a quick look around and put everything back, luckily for them because they’d been unable to think up with a reasonable excuse for this in the 24 hours since deciding to go along with this plan. They were bored and wanted to explore? It was the best they could come up with.

Frisk took a deep breath as they placed a foot on the lowest rung of the ladder; no turning back now. They wondered what they would find up there. The unknown of it made them shiver, but they pressed on. Moving slowly, silently as they could, they easily scaled the ladder, not daring to look down even when they were safely kneeling on the wooden floorboards of the attic.

The place was caked in dust. Layers upon layers of the stuff coated the board over the water tank, the beams in the sloping ceiling and the mass of boxes spread out across the room like ugly chess pieces. Frisk was almost too scared to touch them.

But they were determined to look through as many as they could, so crept over to the nearest, unlabelled and held together with peeling tape. They coughed as they took a plastic toy knife from their pocket, stabbing at the tape feebly until it fell away. Thankfully they’d had the foresight to bring more tape, though they hoped Toriel wouldn’t notice the disturbed dust when she came up here to get one of the boxes for that stranger. What interest did he even have with these boxes?

Frisk stood on their tiptoes to peek over the top, and caught sight of… clothes?

The kid frowned, carefully lifting up a striped jumper by the tiniest tips of their fingers, holding it to their chest. It was scratchy and worn, but could’ve been made for them. Albeit, they didn’t like the brown wool too much, but it still looked like something they’d be reasonably happy wearing. Frisk carefully folded the garment and placed it on the floor to take out another, fluffier, softer jumper, in brighter colours that they just adored. The rest of the clothes were identical items in a variety of sizes, all clearly hand-knitted by Toriel in bright green and yellow, and Frisk wondered if they had time to try one on. These clothes weren’t theirs to wear though, so they simply folded them back up and moved on to the next box. They suited blue and purple better, anyway.

This one held old drawings and photo albums- result! Frisk quickly scanned the crayon scribbles of plants, taking time to study one drawing of four blobs: a purple blob that was most likely Toriel, another pink blob with a bright yellow mane, and two tiny stick figures with matching jumpers. Interesting. Very interesting indeed. Among the paper was a pair ornate boxes contained tiny teeth and locks of white and brunet hair. Just as interesting, if a little creepy.

Frisk picked up a photo album, and their suspicions were quickly confirmed: Toriel had a previous family. They had siblings! Frisk wondered where these other children were though, and why they’d not been allowed to meet them, or had even been told about them. 

They lost themselves and any sense of where they were as they gazed down at the old photos, off-coloured and grainy, of these two children. The older one, a girl, was almost their doppelganger, with a bob of brown hair, but her grinning expression and red eyes unnerved Frisk, and they tried not to look at the kid. The younger was a perfect mix of his parents, with a round face and kind smile, though they weren’t sure where he got his bright white hair or dark eyes. As they ventured deeper into the snapshots of this family’s past, they noticed if they went back far enough, photos of the brown-haired girl ceased altogether. There were only baby photos of the little boy. 

Frisk laughed at how slow they were. Of course! Toriel adopted them, so it made sense she would have adopted another child at some point! 

The fact that these children seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth unnerved them though, and somehow Frisk didn’t think they were simply living with their father.

They placed the photo albums in a neat stack on the floor, diving into the box and falling out with a locket in their hands. Perfect! Frisk wondered to which child the locket belonged, and what secrets it held inside, but as they tried to prize the thing open, they found they simply couldn’t. The locket was burnt and black in places, edges melted together and the clasp broken.

They knew it was wrong, and if Toriel or the stranger ever found out they would never forgive them, but Frisk needed to know what was inside, so set about looking for something they could use to break up open. If it came to it, they could always keep the locket and ask their friends for help opening it. It would mean explaining everything, but it might just be worth it to find out a little more about Toriel’s past. Not to mention it was a very nice locket, nearly pure gold with a beautiful engraving on the back: best friends forever. And they would put it right back!

They scrambled back into the now-upturned box, rooting through toys they had little interest in when they came across a knife. Not a little plastic toy piece of cutlery, but a real dagger with a metallic blade. How strange. Had this been mixed up by accident?

Still, this would do just the trick! Frisk grinned as they held the knife in one hand, locket firmly in the other, staring down at the clasp as they wondered just what they’d find inside. And, more importantly, how it would help them learn about Toriel’s past.

Making any progress in prizing the thing open was damn near impossible, and more than once Frisk was tempted to just throw the thing against the wall, stomp downstairs and give up entirely, but they weren’t like that. They were determined to get this thing open! It was tricky, but they could do it with a little patience, and they had a lot of that to spare.

Finally, they managed to wedge the knife in and scrape away at the melted metal, the thing burst open and the knife went flying, but before they could celebrate, Frisk was thrown back by a great force, into the cardboard box as everything faded to black.   
  


…

 

These were not Frisk’s memories, but they were as clear as their own, as personal, and they swore they felt everything as if it was their own past. Every fear, every wish. Every warmth, every sorrow. A man they felt compelled to call ‘father’ beamed down at them, tears of joy in his heterochromatic eyes as he held them close, bright pink jumper smelling of tealeaves. Toriel, younger, with long dark hair, singing them to sleep. Scheming and gossiping with the girl in the picture, their big sister, their best friend, who would do anything for them. A man they’d never met but swore they hated slapping them across the face. Pain, humiliation, mutual hatred. Helplessness. They were so small, and couldn't do anything to protect themselves. And so much hatred. They burned with the stuff. It was the only thing keeping them going. But the memories kept coming. Them unable to cry at night for fear of being heard. Clutching the knife that was their only friend, curled up on their bed and watching the blood pool across their arms. And years later, their new friend, their dear little brother kissing the same arms better before pulling them into a hug.

The memories became clearer and clearer, until Frisk felt they were really the one throwing all the metal cutlery they could find into their microwave. Sobbing on the kitchen floor surrounded by petrol. The horror as a tuft of white hair poked through the door before everything exploded.

And the last memory. Frisk was surrounded by fire now, not bothering to escape it. They had no intention of escaping alive. They messed up, so damn badly and there was nothing they could do to fix things. The scars on their arms stung as they clutched the smoldering body in their embrace. They were horrible. They were a monster!

They'd killed their own brother.

 

…

 

Frisk woke up in more pain than they’d known in their life. Everything felt heavy, particularly their head, which they didn’t dare try to lift. They couldn’t open their eyes as thoughts not quite theirs ran through their mind, reverberating off the sides of their skull, two distinctive voices speaking in shock and euphoria, and their own tiny one, crying out in pain that couldn’t be heard over a small boy’s voice.

“Chara,” he was calling out, “where am I? I can feel again, Chara!” The child was sobbing, from fear, from shock, from joy, Frisk couldn’t tell.

“Asriel?” Another voice, thin and hollow, “are you there?” 

"I'm here! Help! I can't open my eyes! Everything hurts!"

'Chara' sent a wave of remorse rebounding off Frisk's consciousness. "It's gonna be okay, kid. Hold on, I'm coming!"

Frisk’s arm shot up of its own accord, reaching out to someone.

“My arm is moving!” Cried Asriel, “help! I didn’t do it!”

Chara seemed to come to the same conclusion as Frisk, who elected to keep silent.

“Asriel,” Chara began, “move your arm.”

Frisk’s other arm twitched, and they were not in control as it was raised above the ground, just a few inches, but enough for Chara- her presence resounding through Frisk’s head- to confirm her suspicions. 

“We’re in the same body!” she cried, voice cutting through Frisk from the inside. They stayed silent; even their mind had stilled.

“What? How? Chara I don’t understand!” Asriel let out a whine, and Frisk could feel tears not their own prickle in their eyes.

“I don’t understand either,” she replied.

Frisk knew it wasn’t just Chara and Asriel filling their thoughts with worry, and decided to make their presence known.

_ Hello _ , they piped up, causing the other two to scream. Frisk’s hands shot up to their ears, but it did no good at all.

“Who are you?” cried Asriel.

_ I’m me. _

“This isn’t funny, wise-arse!” growled Chara, “who is this?”

_ I’m Frisk, and I think you two are in my body. _

“Don’t play games with me,” Chara grew quiet as she hissed her words, “now why are you talking inside my head?”

_ Actually, you’re in MY head. I’m going to sit up now. _

And Frisk did, slowly, with a great deal of effort, they pulled themselves into a sitting position, as Chara and Asriel yelped at the movement they were all experiencing. When Frisk’s head brushed against the top of the cardboard box, they felt Asriel move their hand upwards to feel it.

“Chara we’re in Frisk’s body!” cried Asriel, and they both felt Chara groan.

“I suppose we are,” she mumbled.

_ It’s okay if you stay a while _ , Frisk told them,  _ I don’t mind the company. _

Asriel beamed. “Oh, well that’s very kind of you to say!”

“But who are you though?” added Chara.

_ I’m Frisk! I’m a kid.  _

“But how did we end up freaking possessing you?”

Frisk thought for a moment. 

_ Well, I was exploring the attic to find out more about my mama, and found some boxes of your old stuff. I found a locket in this box and tried to get it open. That’s the last thing I remember. _

“You found my locket?” asked Chara.

_ Yup! It should be here somewhere _ . Frisk still hadn’t opened their eyes and had no intention of doing so just yet, despite how the other two were trying to.

_ It’s so strange,  _ they continued,  _ I didn’t even know mama had other children. _

“Mama?” asked Asriel.

_ I think we have the same mother _ , Frisk explained,  _ I know that much. Toriel Dreemurr, right?  _

“That’s mum!” Asriel cried.

“Ma replaced us?” Chara whimpered.

_ I don’t think it was like that. The dates on the photographs said you died a long time ago. _

“We died?” Asriel’s presence shrank back. Frisk’s did too, from horror. It never occurred to them the children would be unaware of their fate.

“Don’t you remember?” asked Chara.

The wailing, wraith-like present quivered as he tried to summon the memories, to little success. “I remember not feeling anything. Bright light. Then nothing, for so long. What happened?”

Chara’s blast of guilt that resounded through them all shocked Asriel, but neither he nor Frisk broke the silence, allowing the other to form her words carefully.

“We all saw each other’s memories,” she began, “right?”

_ Right, _ replied Frisk.

“Then, Asriel, you must know! I killed you!” she laughed nervously, “I tried to kill myself but ended up killing you too.”

Asriel remained silent, though Frisk could feel their eyes tearing up again.

“I didn’t mean to,” Chara added.

“I know,” he whispered. 

“It’s my fault we’re trapped here.”

_ I think it’s mine, _ Frisk piped up;  _ I opened the locket, after all. _

“And who put us in the locket?” hissed Chara.

_ These things happen,  _ they tried.

“Oh, of course!” Frisk could feel Chara rolling their eyes, “how many dead people do you know who’ve been stuffed in jewellery and gone on and possessed some random kid?”

_ I’m not really a random kid though, _ Frisk commented,  _ I mean, we have the same mamma. You two are my brother and sister! This all has to mean something. _

“Ma adopted another kid,” Chara whistled, “she always said she would!”

“Is mum okay?” asked Asriel.

_ I think so, _ replied Frisk,  _ she seems as happy as a lady can be, after everything that happened. I didn’t even know before now! Mama’s very secretive. _

“And dad?”

Frisk frowned at Asriel’s question. _ I never met your dad.  _

“What do you mean?” Asriel cried, “how can you not meet our dad, your dad, ever?”

_Mama never mentioned him._ _Funny though, I did hear her talking to a stranger a few days ago. I think that might be him._

“Was his voice deep and rumbly?”

_ Yes. _

“Then that was dad! Chara, what do you think happened to him? Why doesn’t he live with mum anymore?”

Chara remained silent.

_ I don’t think they’re married anymore,  _ Frisk suggested, to the others’ collective horror.

“What? But mum and dad loved each other so much! They were gonna be together forever and ever!” Asriel was close to tears again, and Frisk could feel how everything was getting to him, chipping away bit by bit. It was a lot to wake up to, they knew.

“Was it because of me?” Chara asked slowly.

_ I don’t know. _

“Can we see mum at least?” Asriel piped up, “I want to see her again!”

_ Well, I live with her, so you will soon, at dinner. I don’t think mama will like it though. _

“Why not? We’re her kids!”

_ But you’re dead, and how would we even explain it? What if she thinks I’m playing a mean joke and gets sad? I think we should wait, just a bit, find out why this happened. _

“I guess,” Chara sighed. 

_ And I think I should ask someone for advice.  _ Frisk was already forming the beginnings of a plan.

“If ma won’t believe you, why would anyone else?”

_ Another kid my age would. I just want to ask them for any ideas, because I have none. _

“Ideas for what?” asked Asriel apprehensively.

_ Getting you out of here, hopefully in your own bodies, maybe. You both seem nice, and can stay as long as you want, but I like my own space. _

“Me too,” Chara agreed.

“I want mum and dad to hug me again,” Asriel mumbled.

Frisk opened their eyes, slowly now their head had stopped swimming. Everything seemed the same, and thankfully Toriel hadn’t come to investigate their absence yet. The locket lay before them, innocently gleaming against the floorboards. Chara reached forward and picked it up, placing it around their neck and hiding it under their jumper. Frisk refused to let her take the knife though. 

The three somehow worked together to control Frisk’s body and tidy up. They could feel the other two were reluctant to box up their toys and clothes, but Toriel couldn’t find out they were up here, and besides, Asriel and Chara didn’t need their things just yet. Frisk thinking that certainly didn't help their mood though.

When everything was as close to perfect as the children could manage, Frisk stood up straight, with some difficulty, and began descending the ladder.

_Be quiet, you two,_ they told the others, _if mama hears your voices coming out of my mouth she'll probably cry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, first of all, why did I make Chara a girl? Because that’s how I interpret the character. I like all gender interpretations of Chara though; they all seem to bring something interesting to the character. Frisk, on the other hand, well, I like different nonbinary genders for Frisk, and boy Frisk, but not so much girl Frisk, because of the lack of content depicting her as a little girl, only sexy anime girl Frisk clinging off Sans with no personality. And that’s not my cup of tea. My personal gender headcanon for Frisk is bigender, which is what they are in this fic. I was going to leave Frisk and Chara ambiguous and up to interpretation, like in canon, but fuck it. It’s my fic I’ll do what I want. Plus, given that Frisk, Chara and Asriel are now occupying the same body, I prefer to have the three of them go by different pronouns. It’s less confusing that way.  
> And yeah, things have escalated, huh? It’s all exciting stuff from here on out. Still, three kids controlling the one body, doesn't sound good.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry it takes ages to write these. I’m a busy adult with many things to do, like watch videos on youtube and not do college work. Plus I’m still not certain on how to write the characters, cause I am still primarily a Hetalia writer and even then I have certain groups I tend to stick with there. Still, I’m looking forward to writing Mettaton and some others in this fic, and having fun with the Undertale characters.  
> Not gonna lie. This chapter proper sucks. Bear with me here!

It was safe to say dinner was more than a little awkward.

Frisk pulled apart pieces of bread to scoop up the different dishes on their plate: two different types of chicken curry and rice, among many other delicious homemade things. They helped themselves to a bit of everything, as usual, barely noticing the spice as they wolfed down enough for three. They needed to replenish their energy badly after the afternoon's events.

“My, my,” commented Toriel, “you have an appetite today, my child.”

Frisk just beamed up at her, cheeks puffed out and full of food. They didn’t want to speak, for fear Asriel or Chara’s voice would come out instead. They knew the other two wanted to talk to her, badly, but the child couldn’t bear to see Toriel cry again. And how to you even begin to explain to someone you’ve been possessed by their dead children? Frisk was bad enough with words as it was. She would think it was a cruel joke, not understand what has gotten into her sweet little child, and probably not speak to them for a very long time. Best not to risk it then.

Still, it was hardly unusual for them to remain silent, even with Toriel.

Their brain was fuzzy, Frisk barely able to hear their own thoughts over Asriel’s crying, and Chara’s desperate attempts to calm him down. The overwhelming longing gripped at their heart, to reach out and hold their mother close, it was unbearable and, apologies to Asriel, they couldn’t risk hugging her again randomly across the dinner table. Asriel had made sure to cuddle Toriel as much as he could the last hour or so, and it was starting to get weird to Toriel, who had no idea what was wrong.

So there was nothing left for it, they would have to excuse themselves as soon as possible and just hide it out until they were used to their guests, because having to pay attention to the others, eating, and what Toriel was saying was starting to make them irritable, and such an emotion didn't suit them.

Frisk wolfed down the rest of their meal, waved goodbye, and was out of the room before Toriel could react. They darted up the stairs, ignoring Asriel’s protests and longings for his mother. It wasn’t his fault, they knew, but it was hard to think straight through this surge of horrendously familiar emotion.

There had to be a way to get them out, and give Asriel and Chara their own bodies so they could hug Toriel themselves, without forcing Frisk to do it.

They ran into their room, stopping to quietly shut the door before flopping into the plush rug in the middle of the room and rolling over to their toy chest. Maybe a few hours playing would take all their minds off the gravity of their situation.

Their room was small but comfy, perfect for their tiny self and designed lovingly by Toriel, with their input, of course. Everything was bright red and flowery, every piece of fabric thick and warm from the quilt to the handmade jumpers hanging in the wardrobe. They tried to keep the place neat, honestly, but Toriel spoiling them rotten with anything they could want didn’t help much and there was just so much to tidy all the time. Right this minute the floor was covered in wool from an ill-fated attempt at knitting earlier that day to take their mind off their plan to explore the attic.

As much as people admired Frisk for their patience, even they had no idea how they could possibly sit and do something frustrating with as much on their mind as they’d had.

Frisk reached for a soft football near the top of the chest before Chara yanked their hand over towards the plastic knife and fork set.

_ No _ , Frisk whined in their head, but Chara ignored them.

“I wanna play picnic!” she cried, but before Frisk could reply, Asriel gave a huff.

“I’d like to draw instead,” he piped up, “haven’t done that in a while.”

_ I like drawing _ , Frisk agreed.

“But-” Chara was still holding the knife. 

“Come on,” Asriel mumbled, “please.”

_ We can draw first and play something else later, _ Frisk suggested, and although Chara didn’t seem to like that idea one bit, she relented, sinking into the corner of the shared mind. 

Fetching their cleanest sketch pad from the shelf, Frisk flopped onto their bed and let Asriel take over, encouraging him as he struggled to use a body for the first time in years. The crayon in their hand was heavy, too bulky for him and it took all of his focus to navigate it across a page in Frisk’s notebook.

But eventually, he settled in to drawing a field of golden flowers whilst Frisk- mentally- sat back and had a think to themselves. 

Really, this couldn’t go on for much longer; even if they could get used to their guests Frisk didn’t want the three of them squashed into one headspace together forever. It was nice to have some company, but they were a private child and even Papyrus and Kid, their closest friends, wore them out easy and they needed to take time out for themselves. Plus, they were independent. Frisk did their own thing most of the time. What could they say? Before Toriel, they’d been all alone and old habits died hard. 

Not to mention souls were heavy- something that had never even occurred to them whenever they thought of the important subject of what a soul was- and three on one little child’s neck was more than straining. 

Chara was a loud, offending presence that disturbed Frisk deeply with her warped perspective of life. They knew each other too well for people who had just met, and her past- plastered across all their minds but something she was refusing to talk about- was too much for even little unfortunate Frisk to handle and process, let alone comfort their new sibling.

Asriel was a far more docile presence, small and timid, trying not to intrude on the other two yet still somehow managing. He cried a lot too, but that might have been the situation they were in and Frisk didn’t blame him at all. 

Chara was more tender around her little brother, voice soft, caring. Frisk, despite being the youngest here, was inclined to feel the same way about him.

These two souls were more than troublesome, but they- along with Toriel and their friends- were the family Frisk had longed for, and they weren’t going to let them go without a fight. Even if it was for the rest of their life, they’d rather hold on to Asriel and Chara’s spirits than expel them and scatter them to the four corners of the earth. But they would much rather find a solution they would all be happy with.

Fresh out of ideas, they elected to talk to Kid about it the next day.

 

…

 

Later that night, Frisk sat on a beanbag in the corner of their room, resting their mind as Chara took over, showing them both how to knit a little scarf for winter, something simple the younger children could follow. Now that Asriel had had his fun, it was Chara’s turn and Frisk for one was glad everyone was now happy, because they weren’t sure they could take anymore conflict.

As their eyes began to droop, they heard a faint knocking on the door and Toriel popped her head in.

Asriel pulled their lips into a smile, but thankfully both the Dreemurr children remained silent.

“Oh, my child,” Toriel smiled warmly, “you learnt to knit all by yourself? My, I am so proud of you!”

Frisk gave the weakest of smiles as Chara finished her row and set the needles down, allowing Toriel to carry them to their bed. It had been a long day, and frankly, all three needed a well-earned sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter’s so short. It’s meant to be! It wasn’t meant to take so long though I just have a lot of fics to get through.  
> Hopefully the story will pick up next chapter and I can introduce more characters.


End file.
